


stopped counting sheep (now I just count the days)

by cinderlily



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Break ups and make ups, M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Past Fic, but details are blurry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 09:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13499480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: In 2011 Jon Lovett moves to LA. He'd planned on going solo, starting a new life and moving on, but as usual Favs took the chance to mess it all up. He ends up a country away from his boyfriend, living a life full of waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it does.





	stopped counting sheep (now I just count the days)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MadQueenCersei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadQueenCersei/gifts).



> Thank thank thank you to MadQueenCersei for giving me amazing notes and cleaning up my grammar and nonsense. Any mistakes are still fully mine though. <3

As Jon stared around his apartment, he realized there was very little left for him to do. The guys would come in the morning to put the stuff he wanted to follow him on a truck, and it would meet him in Los Angeles in a week. He had his bags of essentials packed. He was in his rattiest PJs, ones going into the trash in the morning when he changed into his clothes. He would turn over the keys. 

It was official. He was moving to Los Angeles. No turning back. He put himself into the situation, but his stomach was in knots. It’d felt a whole lot less petrifying a few months ago, in fact, it had felt invigorating. So yeah, it still felt that way, but the entire idea of being gone was not one that hit him when he had been making his plans. 

There was a knock at his door and he walked through the small hallway from his bedroom to the front. It was barely twenty feet if he was stretching it, but as he opened the door, he was almost hit by Favs fist. 

“What the hell?” 

Favs smiled at him, holding up a simple brown bag and a thing of beer. He looked hopefully at Jon like Jon would ever have said go away to Favreau. He opened the door wider. 

“I thought we all agreed yesterday was my goodbye,” Jon said, even as he followed behind Favs walking to his kitchen. “I’m not going to get all emotional over this, Favreau.” 

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Favs said, already at the kitchen table. “I got Bao from Jae’s.” 

The smell filled the room, and he was almost entirely sure it was the thick smell making his eyes water. Or that was what he was telling himself and Favs if he dared mention it. 

“Aw, you remembered, it’s our place,” he half-joked. It was near enough to the White House and opened twenty-four hours a day that it had become an institution when they all had to stay late night rewriting. 

Favs looked up at him, and something crossed his face. “Ours? I think the crew would be pretty pissed.”

“Eh,” Jon said and slid into the other chair. “They didn’t bring it to me, so they are dead to me.” 

“I’ll be sure to tell them that tomorrow.” 

Jon shrugged and took a big bite of the fresh beef and cheese Bao. “Feel free. I’ll be halfway across the country by two.” 

“You know what time work _starts_ , right? It hasn’t been _that_ long, has it?” Favs laughed. “By two we’ll be doing rewrites of our rewrites.” 

“And I will be sipping a nice Diet Coke and writing a spec script,” he said, looking at the beer that he’d been handed. He guessed he should sound more excited about this whole thing, but he was more feeling the anxiety riding into him than anything else. 

Favs sipped his beer. “Any ideas what specs you’re going to write for?” 

“Simpsons,” he deadpanned. Favs kicked at him under the table. “Oh, right, you want me to have a real job. I don’t know. I was thinking maybe West Wing?” 

“I thought you were leaving to _forget_ politics,” Favs said, sipped at his drink. 

Jon swallowed a bite and frowned. “I guess. I just feel like what else do I even know anymore? I’m pop culture devoid. I’ve been making myself watch shows. Do you know how many flipping shows there are? Like, scripted, unscripted. And YouTube? Our job has made us Luddites.” 

“I’ve always been one,” Favs said. “But I guess it does become a little insular. Write an episode of … I don’t know… Friends? No. Bad choice. Grey’s Anatomy? Is that even still on?” 

Jon threw his hands up. “EXACTLY.” 

“Maybe step one on the plane is watch some shows and THEN write a spec script,” Favs pointed out. “It seems like the more logical thing to do. Or we could do some research now?”

“My TV is in a box inside a box, with so much freaking padding.” 

Favs tilted an eyebrow up. “Luddite here, but your computer might be able to show us _something_.” 

“Old West Wing DVDs,” he sighed and put his head down. “I don’t know. Can’t Sorkin write a new show that is relevant to my interests? Must I do _everything_ , Favs?” 

“Come on. You have to have something non-political to watch?” Favs asked, and Jon hummed. He had a handful of DVDs out, a good chunk of which he’d just bought recently. 

He threw the wrapper of his second bao back in the bag because he was sure as hell not starting too much trash. “I think I have the first season of Modern Family?”

“Perfect! You got that,” Favs said. “Take me to your computer.” 

Jon swallowed around the lump in his throat. His computer, his charger, hell, everything he was taking on the plane the next day was currently in his room. On his bed. Logically the best place to watch it would be his room. His couch had been sold, the kitchen tables were hardly comfortable for eating at… 

“Grab the beer,” he commanded, which got a laugh out of Favs. He walked down to his small bedroom and tried desperately to clean it up a little before Favs walked in, but the laughter he heard told him he was caught. Favs needed to stop laughing. It didn’t let him think right. 

Favs handed him a full beer, and he emptied his old one in two chugs. “Nice. I know you're younger than me, but I forgot you were still in college, Lovett.” 

“Oh shut up, Jon,” Jon said, no bite to it. “Just because you’re looking for Medicaid.” 

Favs nudged him over, so he could sit next to him on his bed. “Two years, Lovett. Two freaking years.” 

“How is that 30 thing working out for you?” 

“As well as it will work for you _next year_ ,” Favs said. 

Jon popped open the first disc of Modern Family and put it on the side of his computer. “Pish, a thousand years from now. You are facing it now. So let me in on it.” 

“It’s nice, except the whole pain in the ass friend thing,” Favs said. He crossed his legs, taking more space up and brushing himself up alongside Jon, who almost spilled his beer before he took stock of the situation and forced himself to relax. 

The screen popped up to show him the first episode. 

He could admit the cream puff joke was right, even if he wasn’t a massive fan of straights playing it up gay. He’d seen The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee though and loved Jesse Tyler Ferguson, so he stuck it out. Favs seemed to find it a lot funnier than Jon did, but somehow he couldn’t be annoyed. He liked the way Favs enjoyed things.

The Lion King moment towards the end of the episode got him, though, as Jon had a friend who adopted his daughter and loved to do the stupid lift thing. He picked up a pad of paper he’d had on the side table and scribbled a mess of ideas on a new piece as the second episode began. 

“Got any ideas?” Favs asked, looking over his shoulder. 

Jon grabbed the yellow pad to his chest. “Screw you. I have tons of ideas. This thing is going to be full to the freaking brim, but no reading till it’s polished.” 

“So… sometime late spring?” 

He kicked out at Favs’ stupidly long legs. “Fuck you, Favreau, I’m leaving. Be nice to me.” 

Favs’ face went flat. “Oh yeah, I was supposed to stay mad at you about that.” 

Jon was honestly surprised that he remembered that. He’d said it late the night before at his goodbye party while pretty hammered. Apparently, Jon was going to stay on Favs’ shit list for at least a few months until he came back. Not that Favs doubted his skills - he had said that quite a few times - just that he would miss him, and then Jon would come back. 

Even though it felt good to be missed and even better to be missed by Jon Fucking Favreau, he was going to LA for the long haul. He wasn’t finding anything back East, and the times he did it was all speech work. 

And that wasn’t even mentioning his need to escape the constant circle of the dating scene in DC. He never seemed to find someone that met his standards, and he didn’t feel like lowering them. 

“You still got Andy’s number, right?” Favs broke into his thoughts. 

“In my phone, so I can’t forget,” Jon said. “Plus, like, you know I’m still texting and calling right? You’re acting like I’m a kid going off to war. I’m going to Los Angeles.”

Favs nodded and looked back at the screen. “Same difference.” 

“Eloquent; how many speeches have you written?” 

“Shut up,” Favs said, eyes still focused on Modern Family. 

“It’s like poetry flowing out of your mouth,” he said. Favs flicked him off. The guy had long fingers. 

Phil was about to hit a wall, not metaphorically, and Jon flinched. Maybe this show wasn’t meant for him to try writing. It was funny, but he wasn’t sure he could get some of the characters. Plus he wasn’t sure he was that into most of it in general. 

“Not writing for this one,” he said. 

Favs looked over at him finally. “You’re kidding me. This is funny. You are awesome at funny. It’s just a prospect. You aren’t _selling_ the episode.” 

“These characters are… annoying?” he tried. “No. Well, Phil might be. More… too awkward for no reason. I can’t just write a scene around the two gay guys, who by the way I’m supposed to relate to and don’t, and what do I do with kids?” 

There was a pause. “Are you doubting yourself?” 

His quickening pulse was an excellent indicator of that, but he wasn’t going to share that piece of information. Favs was so close, too close, and his pulse felt loud to his own ears. Was he able to feel the pulse through their shared skin? Hear it? It was enough to make his stomach lurch. He shrugged. “Just... you know, moving across the damn country. I have just about enough in savings to get there and get started. I have a few things out there, but I’m supposed to have a portfolio. What do I have to bring to the table?” 

Favs carefully rolled off the bed, keeping his beer in his hand. He walked into the front room and then came back. It was his old card, the white back stock that said “Jonathan Lovett, speechwriter for the President” in dark blue and the seal in the corner. 

“I packed all of these,” Jon said, flipping it over in his hand. 

“It was in my wallet, Lovett,” Favs rolled his eyes. “I was just showing you what you can bring to the table. You wrote for the _President_ of the United States. Who cares what those smucks think?” 

Jon didn’t even bother correcting his pronunciation of schmuck. Instead, he looked at the raised ink and tried to think of himself back in the writer’s room, spitballing with Favreau. He had known that one of the significant things he would miss about the White House, other than the catchy title and the steady paychecks, was going to be Jon Favreau. 

It was part of the reason he didn’t want to do a goodbye AFTER goodbye. Avoiding uncomfortable situations, and avoiding saying the wrong thing, weren't his strong points. He had, actually, already, though it was the night before. A good night to do it, the night before his move and one of few nights Favreau would apparently forget. 

“The schmucks give me the money,” Jon said, knowing he’d been too long. 

Favs hand slid out and closed the laptop mid-scene, not that either had been watching. “Okay, Lovett, fucking give up and tell me what’s going on.” 

“Pushy, Jonathan,” Jon said, slipping into his fakest flirting tone. 

“Cute,” Favs said. “Try again.” 

Jon picked his computer up and cradled it protectively. “I _told_ you. It’s a little nerve-wracking moving to the other end of the country, okay? You’d think I was speaking Mandarin.” 

“I get you’re anxious, but you’re acting weird,” Favs said. “What the hell, man?” 

There was a long pause before Jon took the computer, and leaned over the side of the bed to put it on the floor. He looked Favs directly in the eyes and, without giving himself a second to hesitate, kissed him. As soon as his lips hit Favs’ he couldn’t help but worry. It was jarring for _him_ , and he’d been prepared for it, but Favs bit down on Jon’s lower lip in shock. Jon went to pull back, conscious that he just leaped three hundred feet over the friendship line. 

Favs shook his head, though Jon couldn’t tell what he was doing. He didn’t seem to be saying no. Maybe he was just cleaning his thoughts. Either way, he grabbed Jon’s face with both hands and kissed him back. Favs tilted Jon’s head slightly, and he let out a soft noise of approval and shock, Favs had freaking moves. Who knew?

There was nothing on his bed, except maybe his cell phone, but fuck the phone. He’d probably need a new number in Los Angeles either way. He pushed Favs down to the bed and licked the inside of his cheek. It was both hot as fuck and awkward as hell. 

He was making out with _Favs_. He was slipping his hand up _Favs_ ’ shirt. Playing with _Favs_ ’ abs. With the amount of time he’d spent dreaming of doing something like this, he was entirely out of his depth. Favs had slipped his hand up Jon’s shirt and was playing softly with Jon’s nipples, which was decidedly unfair. His body jerked, his dick twitched hard, and he was just lucky he didn’t actively buck. 

“Watch the nips, man,” Jon breathed, pulling back slightly. “I’m not sure you want that yet.” 

Favs, who looked flushed and happy, tilted his head up to show the gap between his teeth. “‘If not now, when?’” 

“Did you just quote _Hillel_ in bed?” 

Favs laughed and leaned his head up, kissing him softly and rubbing softly at Jon’s nipples… This time he did buck, but apparently, that was welcome by Favs. His life had tilted into the surreal. He fully expected to look up and find an elephant smoking a pipe in the corner. He was still okay with it all. 

* 

He woke up a few hours later, the light shifted across his room, Favs lying almost on top of him, and Jon realized that he was, in fact, not okay with it all, in any way. Favs looked like he always did, except naked. Naked Favs, mouth slightly open the gap between his teeth. His hair messed up like he was annoyed by what he was writing. His skin tan and annoyingly perfect, no blemishes on him. 

He looked at his phone. He had a flight in eight hours. Eight hours and he was flying across the damn United States to Los Angeles, leaving Favs in his wake. He’d spent the better part of three years instructing himself NOT to do what he just did, and yet here he was, inches to the finish line and he fell flat on his face. 

That there was a definite chance that Favs might like him somehow made everything worse. He was okay with pining, and he could pine with the best of them. He was a master piner. But now that he had the feeling of Favs’ lips against his, his hands all over his body, he was doomed. 

He had to detangle himself from Fav’ in stages. Years working for the President left all of them with the ability to go from dead asleep to wide awake in the smallest breath of concern. Even Jon, who was the definition of ‘not a morning person,’ would find himself waking up to any flash of his phone screen in the middle of the night. 

It took him a good ten minutes, as apparently Favs was part octopus - another thing he didn’t need to know but was now seared into his brain. He could imagine fights they would have, long ones about how Jon needed to breathe in bed sometimes, and Favs shrugging and cuddling closer. Jon would act as if he hated it, but he probably wouldn’t. 

He’d given away his alcohol the night before, which was a freaking tragedy as he needed something stronger than the two bottles of lukewarm beer left on the table. He still opened one, as beggars couldn’t be choosers. 

It was a shitty situation, moving away from his best friends, but this had added a layer he had been proud that he wasn’t letting himself bring across the country with him but ended up doing so either way. He thought he’d start fresh in Los Angeles. He thought he’d see the club scene. Who knew? 

Maybe he would. But even if Favs woke up and gave him his familiar smile and said something stupid like, “I guess one for the road,” or something shitty like that, his brain wasn’t going to let him go anywhere. He wasn’t going to be able to make the memories leave. 

Then again, what would be the point of moving with a guy back home?… back _East_? ‘Home’ was LA, or it would be. It had to be. He felt his stomach twist painfully and gulped down as much of the god-awful lukewarm beer as he could in one go. It wasn’t the wisest decision, but that seemed to be the evening’s’ theme. 

He looked out the window of his kitchen for a good long while, at the view that had enticed him into the small apartment that he’d chosen. It, along with the view from the small balcony outside of his room, had been enough to make up for the long commute and the lack of square footage. He’d fallen in love with this view of the city. The city he’d grown up in, or at least matured in. 

“There you are,” Favs said, walking into the kitchen with just his boxers on. Rude. He rubbed his face with the flat of his hands. “I thought maybe you ran away.” 

Jon swallowed another gulp of beer. “I thought that was my line.” 

Favs sat down at the table built for two and smiled, looking down at Jon’s hands where they sat on the table. “Fuck, Lovett. If nothing else, I’ll say you’ve got timing.” 

“I am a comedian,” he mused. “Or was? Or am?” 

Favs nudged him under the table and finally looked at him. “So, is this the point where one of us points out that we are going to be bi-coastal?” 

“I don’t care what you call yourself, I’m gay,” Jon chided, a little salty. Then he sighed and relaxed his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I was stupid. A whole country between us. And you have what? A half hour of free time every third day?” 

Favs grabbed the other beer and opened it on the side of the table. He and Tommy liked doing so, which had only ended in broken bottle tops a dozen or so times. It didn’t this time, so Favs had that momentary look of pride. Something grew in Jon’s stomach. 

“Okay, here’s the thing,” he said, trying to sound confident. “I like you, obviously. And you like me, again, _obviously_ …” 

“I like the self-confidence.” 

Jon held up a hand. “Come on Favs, let me get through this. We like each other. I kissed you because I like you, let’s just go with ‘a lot’ for pride’s sake. And in about seven hours, I am moving away. Which sucks. But! We were planning on hanging out either way, before we … before. So. We have two options.

“We can either be miserable and long distance and maybe make it a few months and then never talk again. Or we can be miserable and long distance but … open. To other things. Other people. Talk as often as possible. Be realistic. Not… expect things. I don’t know. And I’ll visit. And you’ll … what am I talking about? You’ll never visit. But I’ll visit, cause who needs a job?” 

Favs eyes were trained on him, watching as he moved, lips close to the point of almost pursing but not quite. He wasn’t sure if he was getting his point across if that was the look that Favs was giving him. He put his hands up. 

“Or we could just say good game, you know…” 

“Did you just make a _sports_ reference?” Favs let out a small laugh. 

Jon frowned. “You quoted an ancient Rabbi during sex, are we going to compare?” 

There was a pause, Jon hated it. It was long and heavy and he was preparing himself to put his fake smile on for the “good game” response when Favs pushed across the table and kissed him. 

“Fucking hell,” he breathed out a minute longer, his fingers somehow laced behind Favs’ head. “Dirty pool.” 

“What if we go with the first option but leave the miserable breakup part?” Favs asked, his hands curled into Jon’s shirt. 

Jon wanted to yell at him. Wanted to tell him that he wasn’t thinking clearly, because this was out of control. He wasn’t meant for long distance. Long distance was hard. He was not the type to get into complicated relationships, but here he was. But he looked in Favs’ eyes, and he knew his brain was going to lose this battle. 

“Come on, Jon,” Jon tried, weakly. “We will both be busy, ideally, don’t you think…” 

Another kiss, deeper this time. Jon felt his stomach clench. He was trying to make this fair for all parties involved. It felt like he was trying his best to be the adult and _Favreau_ was the kid here. He couldn’t help it though when he made a noise in the back of his throat, as Favs could _kiss_. 

“Come on,” Favs said, pulling back and grabbing onto his arm. “Let’s go to your room.” 

“Why?” he asked, instantly feeling dumb as the words came out of his mouth. Like Favs was asking to play freaking Parcheesi or something. 

Favs tilted his head and laughed. “Come on, don’t look like that. You are already killing me here. Let’s try and use the time we have.” 

Which they did. Twice more. In between they lay and talked for a truly ridiculous amount of time. Favs admitted to when he first started liking Jon, a three o’clock night early on where he got Favs laughing for a few hours, but Jon didn’t reciprocate with his story as his was much more embarrassing than Favs. (Seeing him at a caucus. He had seen him talking to Tommy from a good half of a large room away, not that he knew who he was at the time. One good laugh and he had been gone.) 

They talked about his new apartment, leaving out the fact where it was located. It was larger, not by much, but it had a second bedroom. He figured he’d make it his office. Favs said he should at least invest in a futon for guests and Jon laughed. 

“What guests?” 

Favs had poked at him. “I was being subtle, Lovett.” 

Jon had rolled his eyes and poked him back. “What guests that would require a second bed?” 

There was this long pause after that. He hadn’t meant to say it, because saying it meant they were going to try, and that was crazy. That was legitimately the most insane thing he could say he’d done. He wasn’t going to do it. But his brain had decided it. 

Favs butt his forehead against Jon’s cheek. “Well then, since you’re so sure.” 

“Oh come on,” Jon said and turned his head to find Favs grinning like an idiot. “Like I’m the crazy one in this situation? You’re cutting yourself off, and you’re in People’s hottest…” 

He watched as Favs ears went pink, They’d done that since the day that’d been announced, and even two years later it was Jon’s favorite thing to do. He should just admit that he was completely screwed, a dumbass. Impulsively he leaned over and kissed one of Favs’ ears. 

“What was that for?” 

“Your ears burn when anyone mentions that magazine,” Jon said. “It’s… cute.” 

Favs raised an eyebrow. “Cute?” 

“Yeah, it’s cute. You’re cute. Accept it.” 

“I don’t think anyone has called me ‘cute’ since I hit puberty.” 

Jon shrugged. “People are wrong. I mean, _other_ people are wrong. I am right in all that I do.” 

The light from his window was slowly growing. They’d spent the whole night awake together. He didn’t look at his phone, on its charger on the floor by the bed, knowing that he would hate the time that was on there. Instead, he looked at Favs for a while longer, watched him stare back, a lazy smile on his face. 

“If I fall asleep in the Oval, I’m telling Obama it’s your fault,” Favs threw out. 

Jon laughed. “You’re going to explain to my former boss that we didn’t sleep next to each other, after sleeping with each other? After falling asleep in the closest thing we have to a holy spot in this city? It’s your job, man. You can crash with me when he fires you.” 

“I want to move to Los Angeles,” Favs blurted out. “Not now, but soon. I think my political career is coming to its natural end.” 

Jon’s eyes went wide. “You’re crazy.” 

“No,” Favs said. “I’ve told you before I was planning on moving there.”

“I thought you said after Obama was done. That could be five years from now,” Jon pointed out. 

Favs shrugged. “I don’t know if I can do this schedule for five more years, Lovett. People don’t do speechwriting for that long. The pay is amazing, and for a reason. You were right earlier. I rarely have time to myself. I don’t sleep well. It’s crazy.” 

He swallowed the guilt that he felt for taking away precious sleep hours. He remembered the feeling of constant exhaustion from the White House, and he was a junior writer. He was there less than Favs, had had more time to himself even when he was in the office. Favs had always been moving. 

“Why LA?” he asked. They’d talked about it, but it had always been a what if, and LA was interchangeable with San Francisco most times. 

“Better chances to write speeches for people who have money to pay for it,” he said. “Actual family I can see on a semi-regular basis. Hell, maybe Andy will even crash in my guest room. Sun. The beach. Weather that isn’t made of pure humidity.” 

Jon couldn’t help but laugh. “But I love when my hair looks like I stuck a penny in a socket. It’s a great look for me, Jon.” 

“Gel, Lovett, _gel_. It is not that difficult. If I can get Tommy to figure it out…” 

“Yeah, I’m not waking up earlier to make my hair look like an _organized_ mess,” Jon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Take it or leave it.” 

Favs nudged him. “Take it. Idiot.” 

From beside his bed, he heard the dulcet tones of Black Eyed Peas singing “I’ve Got a Feeling.” He had to change his damn ringer, not that he used it in everyday life. His phone was almost always on silent. 

He expected a laugh out of Favs, about how ridiculous the ringer was, but instead, he got large eyes that stared him down. It was where reality clicked, he figured. That he was leaving, that they were going to be a country apart. He braced himself. 

“You’re going to need to go home to get changed. The walk of shame probably isn’t the way to start the week,” he said. A stab at lightening the room. It didn’t work. 

Favs rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “You’re going.” 

“I am.” 

“Why’d we wait until yesterday?” 

Jon inhaled and then let out a huff. “Because I was afraid you’d hit me.” 

A hand landed in a soft thwap to the side of his head. 

“ _OW_.” 

“Why would you think I’d hit you if you kissed me?” 

“You realize you literally _just hit me_ ,” Jon pointed out. “Also, how was I supposed to know how you’d react? I figured you’d either hit me or pity me and I was… good without that. I’ve seen you with exactly one guy ever, and he was a Greek writer, who could have descended from Narcissus.” 

Favs let out a weird laugh. “That is truer than you know, the guy was fun, but I can’t be in a three-way with only two people.” 

“And you make jokes, and they’re mostly bad, but you laugh at them. Favs. I’m like in Duluth running campaign rallies, and you’re on the ground in DC.” 

Favs laughed, hard. “Out of my league? That’s the normal phrasing, even if you’re wrong.” 

“I hate you,” Jon said. 

“Well, that’ll make it easier for you,” Favs said, and this time Jon smacked him on the head. “Ow.” 

“Not the time to joke about this.” 

His secondary alarm went off, and the song starts again. Favs looked at him, and Jon watched his face fall. “Fuck.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I…uh. You’ll call me before you get on the plane?” 

Jon laughed. “Are you kidding me? I’ll probably send you a text the minute you are in your car. Which you won’t be checking because you will be driving safely, and it’ll probably be something stupid. Oh gd, I’m going to be that guy. You’re going to turn me into _that_ guy, Favreau.” 

“Fuck you, Lovett,” Favs playfully nudged him. “I’ll be that guy, but I’ll have the guys being annoying about it. Or if the President finds out… never-ending crap.”

He hesitated as he got out of bed. He had to get dressed; Favs had to get dressed. The moving guy was coming to fill his truck soon, and then his ride to the airport would come not long after that. He offered his hand to Favs and Favs took it. Their clothes were scattered on the floor, Favs’ because they landed where they landed and his because he hadn’t thought anyone would come over. 

They didn’t talk while they got dressed. Just walked around each other grabbing random pieces of gear. A few times Favs stopped him, pulled him in and up for a random kiss to the lips, like he forgot and then suddenly remembered he could. The kisses were the kind Jon would tease most of his friends for. Too deep, too fast, and usually left them laughing. Jon did it once back, nervously popping on his toes and touching Favs lips with a quick brush of lips. Then Favs’ phone buzzed and Favs looked at it with wide eyes. 

“I got to go,” he said, going from lazily putting the clothes on to a fast and robust tug. Jon was smart enough not to bother asking why. Emergency edits? A speech for an unknown press conference. He had no idea. It could be the worst of the best, who ever knew? 

It did cut the last bits of their time in twain. He wasn’t excited about that. 

“I’ll uh, I’ll do that calling thing,” Jon said, pulling his shirt on and down over his the top of his pants. “You know. Before my flight takes off.” 

Favs stopped mid stressed out look around on the floor for anything missing and stared at Jon for a long second. He then took a few short strides to fill the gap, put their lips together and kissed Jon like a man going to war. It was a little embarrassing, not to mention weird for the fact that he was a small kind of generic guy, not a coquettish girl or tall stupidly gorgeous guy but he took it for what it was. He even let himself lean back a little to enjoy it. 

“Call me on my personal, but email my work… if I don’t answer.” 

So the text wasn’t necessarily good if it sounded like he was going to be in a place where his phone wouldn’t be on or accessible. Also, asking for him to email his work email was pretty brazen, but he would do it. 

“Safe, Jon Favreau, you stay safe.” 

“You’re the one traveling,” Favs said, kissing him again. “I’m supposed to say ‘safe travels’.” 

Jon smirked. “We are always doing things backward.” 

Favs smiled, but it seemed sadder than Jon would have liked. “Later, okay?” 

He followed behind Favs, wondering what the hell his life was. When they got to the front door, Favs gave him one last kiss and Jon had to push him out the door. He waited for a long moment to see if he’d come back, knock. He didn’t. So he turned and went back to his room, only a tinge of sadness. 

*

Los Angeles, it turned out, was pretty freaking great for him. It took him hunting and pecking for a few months before to finally jump on the show train, but once he did, he found that he liked the whole process. The writers’ room. The weird hours. The constant flow of trying to find more work because, well, you never knew. 

The only thing he felt like he left in DC was obvious. He and Favs were somehow making it work. The first few months were slightly more relaxed, as he traveled back a few times to give speeches and to visit. But then with the actual grind of schedule on his shoulders, he found that that visiting part was gone. Maybe during hiatus? He didn’t know. 

But they still somehow talked every day, even if Favs was traveling for work or Jon was pulling an all-nighter. Their conflicting schedules worked out only in that the three hour time difference handed them time. Time was the highest commodity in their relationship. 

At six months of dating, they’d spent a total of seven days with each other, if they were generous. One of those days was a few hours spent in a hotel room in DC, Jon feverishly finishing a script while Favs spent two straight hours on the phone with Obama talking about two lines of a speech he’d finished the night before, which was succeeded by two hours on his computer trying to reword something to sound less ‘uptight’. 

But they had been doing this all while touching, hands brushing and lips meeting for brief kisses (well, not when he was on the phone but after that), which Jon counted as a win for all sides. And they had dinner sent up to their room, a date of sorts, followed by a shower together, and a brief make-out session with some dry humping before Favs started to fall asleep on Jon. 

They’d spent more time on Skype then Jon thought was possible, to the point that he no longer feared being monitored by his webcam. If the government was watching, they would be bored shitless. He felt like a college kid with a girlfriend back home, but it was sometimes comforting to have the computer on and know that Favs was there. Just there. 

One or more likely both of them working, not saying much except the occasional check-in, the person’s bored face in the corner of the screen they’d while away hours. 

He was happy. Bizarrely happy. A little anxious about how quickly this could break down like a house of cards. He could see it, ever present, but never actually said anything about it. He liked what this was. The way Favs smiled would curl up in him as he read something stupid on his screen. He liked when they tried to synch up stupid videos together. He loved hearing stupid conversations on the phone between Favs and Tommy. Hell, he even loved when Tommy showed up and ribbed the hell out of the two of them for being “adorably creepy.”

Truthfully? They were. 

He liked that too. 

*

He could admit that he hadn’t been enthused when he got the summary for 1600 PENN. It was like one of his biggest fears realized; he was going to be _that_ guy. The guy who wrote about politics, the one trick pony. Then he got about three paragraphs into the sample sheets, and he was curled on his side in tears. The simplicity of it was comforting in a way that he couldn’t help but find perfect, and he’d already written notes on the margin with a pen he hadn’t thought he had near him. There were small little errors that you wouldn’t see if you weren’t familiar with the White House, but overall it was brilliant. 

He emailed Jason Winer on the spot and didn’t even feel stupid when he pled to be in on it. He had to find a way to work on this show because if not he was going to regret it. 

The day the pilot was picked up he was full-on buzzing with pure joy, and his first instinct was to call Favs - of course he would call Favs. He felt let down when he didn’t answer, but he swallowed around it and made sure to remind himself of his shitty schedule when he worked there. He left a message, though, giddily explaining that he’d not only gotten what he wanted, but he was going to be _important_ for once and knew that Favs _might_ call him out for that, but he didn’t care. 

He called his parents second. They acted like he’d won the lottery, not worked his ass off to get to that point. It only stung a little, but he knew that they worried. They always worried. He assured them it was good money, that his life was good. He was happy. When they asked about Favs, he didn’t mention how much he hated long distance as he’d said that once and had yet to hear the end of it. He lied, a little, and told them that he’d talked to him and he was more excited than Jon. He figured it would be right, so why not? 

* 

Favs showed up on his 30th birthday with a bottle of tequila, a dozen yellow roses and a container of Magnolia cupcakes. How the hell he’d managed to get the cakes there was a thing that he wasn’t going to guess, but it was just past ten in the morning, and he felt like he might cry.

“Dude, you know I understand flowers, right?” He pointed to the flowers. “We’re friends now?” 

Favs shrugged. “Those are from Tommy, who sends his regards. This was like a covert operation, so he helped me plan it.” 

“How the hell did you get here?” 

Favs smiled widely and walked past him. “I rented a plane.” 

“You did WHAT?” Jon asked his back, not able to entirely fathom just how much that would cost. He knew Favs made considerably more than he did, but renting a plane was something he couldn’t comprehend doing at any price. 

He followed the path Favs had taken to find him in the kitchen, digging through the barren cupboards and holding the flowers like maybe he was looking for something to put them in. He figured he wished him luck on that one. 

“Tommy had a friend who has a timeshare on a plane. I rented it through him,” Favs said. “You don’t have a vase?” 

Jon rolled his eyes. “You DO?” 

“Touché,” Favs replied. “Either way, I think we’ll put these in… a large cup? Do you have a large cup?” 

“Don’t judge my kitchen!” 

Favs raised an eyebrow at him, and he got up and walked over to a cabinet near the back where he had a giant as hell deep mug that his mother had bought him for his move. It said something stupid about ‘just enough caffeine,’ but it could hold the roses if needed. Jon was fairly sure that they’d still die overnight, but Favs looked so proud he didn’t say a word. 

The flowers in the mug, Favs crowded up in his space. “I have all day for you, Lovett. I am a pumpkin, and we have until midnight.” 

He could think of a few things that he could manage in the span of time it would take to make him a pumpkin. He went up on his toes and gave him a light kiss, and the connection of skin shook him into awareness. _Jon Favreau was in his kitchen_. 

Jon was shoved up against the counter, the one with the cupcakes directly behind him, and he made a noise of disapproval, too into the kiss to let out the words “move them,” but Favs read his mind as usual. The cupcakes were moved from one side of the counter to the other, and He lifted himself up onto the counter. It gave him better leverage, and the kiss went from just a little pushy to making out rather quickly after that. 

He was panting about a minute in. It amazed him how touch-starved he’d felt. He’d spent the night before with a group of colleagues, been given back pats and hugs, but it felt like he hadn’t had essential human contact in decades. When Favs slipped his hand up Jon’s shirt, his head lolled forward onto Favs’ shoulder. He couldn’t help it, and Favs was polite enough not to laugh. 

“I missed you,” he found himself chanting. It was weird, to say that when they spent a good chunk of time in some contact but it was the most genuine thing he could say. His lips met the crook of Favs’ neck, and he started to bite it, slow and steady. 

Favs lifted his head, breathing just as heavy. “You give me a hickey, I’ll Skype you from the Oval so YOU can explain it.” 

“It would be worth it, just to see the look on his face,” Jon said, a small twist of his lips. He leaned down and gave another quick nip where his lips had been a moment before. 

Fav’s head lolled to the side, exposing the skin. “Oh, Jesus.” 

“Don’t take your Lord’s name in vain, Catholic boy,” Jon teased, and he expected a comment on his free usage of ‘Jesus’ and ‘Gd,’ but he got neither. Instead, he was treated to Favs lifting him off the counter. He wriggled, not unlike a perturbed puppy. “What the hell?” 

Favs put his feet on the floor and took him by the hand to pull him to his bedroom. “Let’s go, Lovett. Pumpkin. Midnight.”

“Okay, caveman,” he said, but to be honest, he was okay with that. 

Favs shoved him on his bed and they celebrated his birthday in the way he had been hoping but not thinking would happen. He stripped himself down as Favs did the same, because who said the romance was dead? He threw his clothes to this side, and Favs folded his up. He opened his mouth to mock him, but Favs leaned over him and crawled up towards him, and he forgot what words were. 

The first time was fast and dirty, it spoke of months apart. He did give Favs a hickey, but was smart enough to put it low enough on his chest to keep it from any unwanted eyes. From any eyes beyond himself, ideally. They both came from each other’s hands and it left a mess like no other, but Favs grabbed a warm towel and washed Jon gently. 

He wasn’t a teenager, but the action was so sweet that it lead to a good long make out period that gave them both a chance to recharge. They moved like one body curled up into each other. Breathing in each other’s air and laughing at random intervals when a hand would tickle a spot or when they would realize that they were really right there, together. 

The second time was slow and comfortable, Jon tilting his head up as Favs gave him what he called a requisite birthday blowjob. If that was what he would get for his birthday, he suggested that he would submit papers to change his birthday to daily, Favs blushed and nuzzled his neck. He would have given Favs one as well, but Favs had other ideas and he was more than okay to follow them. 

After, when they lay in the glow of orgasms and a few tiny naps, Favs went to the kitchen and brought him a cupcake with a candle on top of it. He was serenaded by Favs’ rendition of Happy Birthday and then told to blow out the candle. 

“What’d you wish for?” 

_You to stay._

But he couldn’t say it. Even a year in, he wasn’t sure if that was what he was allowed to say. His brain wasn’t at its full speed, so he blurted something out. 

“A dog.”

* 

It shouldn’t have shocked him in the least when three weeks late, he was walking around his house trying to find the keys, and there was a knock at the door. He opened it to find a man holding a dog and a balloon. His hand immediately went to his hip to grab his phone and ask Favs if he had screwed his head up somewhere along the way when he remembered Favs was in the middle of a meeting. The coward. 

“Delivery for Jon Lovitz?” the guy said, looking a little excited. 

Jon rolled his eyes. “It’s Lovett. Do you honestly think that guy lives in THIS apartment?” 

The delivery guy deflated. “Yeah, good point. Well. Congrats. Here’s a dog from Jon Favreau… are you guys making this shit up?” 

“Yes,” he said and took the squirming little dog out of the man’s hands. The guy shoved the balloon into his hand and then made him sign the delivery paperwork. He closed the door and rolled his eyes. 

The dog had a bow on it and was licking his face. He couldn’t help but instantly want to curl around the stupid thing. There was a note on the end of the balloon, and he opened it up to read aloud. 

“ _You need someone to cuddle with when I’m not there. Here’s a girl to fall in love with. Happy One Year. -JF._ ” 

A feeling built in the bottom of his stomach. A year? A year? It had been a year. He ran to his laptop and looked at the date. The dog, who was in his arms and looking at him very confusedly, tilted her head and let out a small, fervent little yip. 

He let out a sigh of relief when he realized that it hadn’t been a year. He moved on the 13th, and it was the 10th, so he had exactly three days to figure what the fuck he was going to do to one-up a living being that was going to need care for the next twenty years of its life. 

This was the scariest thing that had happened to him… ever. He couldn’t keep a tree alive. What the hell was Favs thinking? The dog wasn’t even that cute. Except for the eyes. And the ears. Okay, the dog was freaking cute. But, you know, he was a busy guy! 

The dog yipped again, and he was pretty sure that would get annoying quickly. He took a picture of himself and his anniversary gift, sending it to Favreau with the caption “ _You’re early, freako. Thanks, I love you. -JL._ ” 

It took a full minute for him to realize that he hadn’t said “I love it” or even “I love her,” but...oh no. He had said their very first I love you in a freaking TEXT that would no doubt be seen when he was walking from one meeting to another. Possibly with the President. Or any number of his colleagues. 

The dog yipped again, and he almost panicked before he realized that the dog might be hungry, or thirsty, or any number of things which all required him to leave his house. He put her down on the ground and looked around. 

It took him another five minutes to find the damn keys, and in that time the dog christened the apartment as her own in two different places. He was already gone for her. 

They made it down to his car, where he placed her in the front seat for all of thirty seconds before he got freaked out about the possibility of her flying. He put her in the back on the floor. He was thankful for the amount of discarded paper back there, as he had no idea how much more pee was in the puppy. 

His phone started vibrating, and he looked at it, feeling the sheer fear that had slowly ebbed come back in an instant. He didn’t have to see the dumb picture of Favs on the phone to know who it was, but he appreciated the silly duck face all the same. 

“You got me a dog?” he answered, hoping to stave off any talk of the other thing. 

“YOU LOVE ME?” Favs said, his voice loud enough that Jon was glad he had pulled off to the side of the road. 

The dog yipped in the back. Jon was quiet probably too long. “Yes?”

There was movement on the other side of the phone, nothing that Jon could recognize, but it was like a sudden pop, and then silence, followed by the distant sound of Favs’ voice, followed by what he honestly and utterly hoped was NOT who he thought it was and then back to Favs again. 

“Uh, I’m going to need to call you back,” Favs said, his voice soft and low. “But um. You know. You too?” 

Though there was a rush of happiness in his chest, it was mixed with anxiety. “Tell me that you are not in the same room as the POTUS?” 

“I can’t lie to you,” Favs said. “I’ll call you back.” 

He thunked his head against the steering wheel of his car. Of course Obama would be one of the first people that heard about his declaration of love. 

Later, much much much later, when his dog had a gender (female) and a name (Pundit), along with much more crap then she probably actually needed, he got a call from a tired-sounding Favs. Apparently, he’d called during talks about the next day's agenda, but Favs had at least thought he’d closed the door when he walked out of the hallway.

It was funny, hours later, but he could see on Favs’ face that it had not been funny at the time. He did smile when he explained his new nickname was Romeo. 

“If that makes me that whiny brat Juliet I am going actually to stab myself in the chest,” Jon declared. 

“No, you can be Mercutio I think he was in love with Romeo either way.” 

* 

Going from his family for Thanksgiving, loud and raucous and neurotic in a way that seemed to border on endearing but sometimes veered into scary territory, to Favs’ family for Christmas, was a sharp juxtaposition. He hadn’t expected even to spend Christmas with Favs, as in general, regular holidays didn’t count as White House holidays, but Favs had been granted three days to go home before he went back. 

Favs’ family wasn’t _quiet_ exactly, but they were a world away from his family. Even with Andy being a ham like no other and drawing the world to him. It was evident that that had been the role of Andy, the center of the little Favreau world. Favs seemed okay with it, seated back and teasing his brother at random intervals, but the lack of yelling and talking over each other freaked Jon out. 

A lot of things freaked him out. It was the first time he’d been the boyfriend at a holiday event with the Favreaus. They’d all met him before, of course, but that was incredibly different from their son saying, “This is Lovett, we sleep together when we can, and I love him, for some mysterious reason.” 

(Not that Favs would say the last bit. Jon just thought it pretty much on the daily.) 

None of them seemed to instantly hate him though, which he counted as an unprecedented thumbs up. Even with their quiet nature, he was included in every single activity, from decorating the tree to making dinner for Christmas Eve. He tried his best to keep himself in check when it came to his more snarky comments, which got him a few concerned looks from Favs. He was just rooting to make them like him enough that they didn’t instantly tell Favs to break up with him before the New Year. Small goals. 

*

Through a bit of investigation and calling Tommy about a half a dozen times, he figured out where Favs had gotten Pundit about six weeks later. He waited, however, until Valentine’s Day for his little surprise. He had called the guy and asked if they had any of the puppies from Pundit’s litter left, but it was apparently not possible that far out. Pundit’s mom did have another litter, though, which was almost aged up enough for him to sell. 

He balked at the price and sincerely felt wrong about the watch he’d sent as his gift but sent a check along its way and waited patiently for the day to come. 

He was awoken at four in the morning, but it was worth it to here the high pitched Favs squeak out, “A DOG?” 

“Pundit’s brother. I mean, he can’t be as awesome as Pundit, but now they’ll have buddies to play with when he gets here.” 

“I’m… wait … her brother?” 

Jon smiled through his yawn. “Yeah, I found the breeder. Which, by the way, JESUS, Favreau. Our one year? What are you going to do for our two years, a freaking Benz?” 

“Lovett, I am not able to take care of myself, what if I mess up this pup’s life?” 

“I have nothing but faith in you, Favs. Plus, Pundit is fine,” he said, eyes shifting to where the dog lifted her head at her name. “If I can raise a dog, you got this.” 

He heard a yip over the line. “What does he look like? Can you see Pundit? What are you going to name him?” 

“Uh, he looks like a dog, Lovett. Maybe bigger than Pundit was the first time I saw her… and what the hell should I name him?” 

“You could go with Constituent, and you know a theme…” 

Favs laughed. “No. I’m good. Maybe like… Sport?” 

“Your creativity astounds me.” 

The yips continued. “He seems to like The West Wing.” 

“We can keep him,” Jon said magnanimously. It was good, as he spent way too much on that mutt. “Hey! Call him Sam, like Seaborn…” 

Favs paused. “Leo.” 

“What? Why?” 

“Cause it’s my gift and I’ll name him what I like,” Favs said. “Also, he just jumped at the screen when Leo yelled at Margaret.” 

Jon laughed. “He’s going to be barking a lot.” 

“Leo, you like that buddy?” Favs said, and he could hear the smile on his face. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Favs.” 

Favs made a choked noise. “Shit, it’s… I mean. I remembered but um… Sorry, I woke you up at four.” 

“It’s okay, nerd, I kind of like hearing your voice.” 

“Go back to sleep.” 

Pundit curled up next to his head. Usually he’d move her, but instead, he scratched her and smiled. “Will do, Sir.” 

“Love you.” 

“Eh, you’ll do,” he said and hung up. Just before he plugged the phone back into its charger, he sent off a text. 

‘ _Love you, too_.

*

Jon snuck in a visit to DC in early October. He had a few days off in a row, and even though not that long ago he’d seen Favs, he felt like it had been six months. The daily grind of a writers’ room, while fun and amazing and just what he’d hoped it to be, had its days where he was sure he would never ever leave those four walls ever again. Josh would suggest a rewrite or a scene and Jon would feel his eyes start to bleed as his mental clock added two more hours. 

It had also cut into the time that he and Favs could talk, which was taking a toll on.. well. Them. Not that he would say it aloud, but he felt like half the time he would call and even though they’d have so much to talk about it would end up being a ten minute phone call filled with pleasantries, and then he or Favs would start to fall asleep and they’d swear the next time would be more. 

He had called Favs on the Monday before he left and asked if he would be willing to have a couch surfer, and Favs had seemed genuinely as excited as Jon felt about the trip. 

He couldn’t pick him up at the airport. Naturally, Jon arrived just early enough that it would have required him leaving way earlier than he ever did, but they met up at a bar, and Tommy was there which was nice if a bit weird. He’d hoped to spend the bulk of the weekend in bed, not with friends. 

Favs kissed him with the force of a promise of that being his intent. It was enough to make Jon relax and even be okay with the ribbing. 

“You know, this bar doesn’t have any rooms to rent,” Tommy said, loudly, when they kissed a second time.

“Oh shut up Vietor,” he said, unable to come up with a decent come back when he was running off the sweet level of serotonin that was pushed into his system. Jon let his hand fall and grabbed at Favs, who took him long enough to squeeze it and pull him to the side of the table they would share. 

Tommy handed him a glass, and he smiled at the familiar red of the daiquiri he usually got shit from Tommy for. 

“You’re forgiven,” he said and took a long drink. 

Tommy smiled. “I’m glad to be back in your good graces, Lovett. I was lost without them.” 

“So, uh, news,” Favs blurted out, and Jon tilted his head towards him. For a second he tried to think about news they shared, but Tommy knew they were together, obviously. His eyebrows furrowed. “Tommy and I are leaving the White House.” 

Jon’s voice to an embarrassing rose an octave. “Wait, what? When?” 

They all saw head’s turn, and Jon smiled his best smile while blushing at the people who stared him down. He waved. 

“March,” Favs said, his voice low and his eyes averted. 

He wanted to feel the sweet feeling of giddiness at the concept of Favs _finally_ leaving after years of talking about it, wanted to know that that would mean that he was moving to LA, but something felt wrong. Favs had a look on his face that wasn’t ‘MOVING DAY!’ and Tommy’s eyes wouldn’t meet his. 

“What am I missing here?” Jon asked, slowly. “And why did you bring in Vietor?” 

Favs looked a little uncomfortable. “I was offered a fellowship at the University of Chicago. Tommy and I are thinking that it might be a good place for us to lift off a company together.” 

“Back it up, a Fellowship?” 

“About being a speechwriter for Obama,” Favs said, and Jon blinked at him. 

“Oh, cause I was sure you were doing a program about goat herding,” Jon rolled his eyes and looked at Tommy. “And you’re here to buffer this?” 

Tommy looked about as comfortable as if he was seated on cacti, shifting back and forth and drinking from his beer in long slow pulls. “We’re thinking of setting up a company after the Fellowship.” 

“Where?” 

“We haven’t figured that out yet,” Favs said, putting a hand out to get his attention away from Tommy. “We’re just testing the waters. We have months. And if I take the Fellowship… well. It’ll give us more time to work out the details.” 

“ _If_?” 

“I have until January 1st to tell them if I want to do it or not,” Favs said. “Only six people know I’m stepping down as the head speechwriter.” 

Jon felt his body relax but only a fraction he looked at Favs. “So… we’re looking at June?” 

Favs smiled softly. “Yeah, June. I think. If I take the fellowship.” 

“ _If_ you do.”

“I just… wanted to talk it out with you.” 

Jon looked across the table at Tommy who was still doing his best to keep his eyes averted. It was at once annoying and comical. He felt for the guy, being used apparently as a buffer in a way to keep from it going to pure shit. “Me and Tommy.” 

“Well, he’s involved.” 

“Tommy, be honest, did he spring tonight on you?”

Tommy looked over and made his half frown face, the one he would make when Jon had asked about secrets he might know that were interesting. “Uh…” 

“So that’s a definite yes.” 

“I didn’t say that,” Tommy countered. 

Jon rolled his eyes. “You ALSO didn’t say why Barack made us take out the Bin Laden jokes.” 

“I didn’t _know that_ , Lovett.” 

“Bullshit, and you know it.” 

A long-standing fight was a good distraction from the fact that he still had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to feign jet lag, but it was something like 2 PM Los Angeles time, so the true fact of it was that he was going to be up for hours and the guys knew it just as much as he did. He poked and prodded at old ‘fights’ he and Tommy got into and didn’t flinch when he felt Favs slip a hand on his thigh and squeeze. 

He half smiled at Favs during a pause in a point he was making about the fact that Tommy would remember how it would feel on the outside once he quit but it was weird, and he knew it. 

*

That night when they got home, Jon was tempted to try and just avoid the subject entirely, hoping that the WASPiness of the Favreaus would take over and not bother to make it weird. But apparently Favs was losing that, and he delved in just as Jon placed his bag on the inside of his door and rubbed at Leo’s ears. 

“It would only be a few months. And then I’d be in LA.” 

Jon, who was rubbing Leo’s ears, frowned. “You’ve been telling me it would just be a few more months for a while, Jon. Is it irrational for me to want to live in the same area code as you?”

“I’ve been working on it,” Favs said. Jon looked up from the dog and saw Favs looking honest and open, and he felt his stomach flip. 

Fuck it, and he was gone.

He’d mostly known what he was getting into when they started. He’d known that long distance was hard, knowing it would take work and he could see the look of worry etched on Favs face. He stood up and lifted himself up onto his toes slightly, thankful when Favs leaned his head down, and they kissed like it was the first time in forever. He tugged at Favs hand and even though Leo was curling between his legs he managed to get across the townhouse with minimal tripping. 

“What are we doing?” Favs asked, with just the slightest tinge of sarcasm. “I thought we were having a discussion.” 

Jon shrugged. “Too much time to talk, this is celebration time.” 

“Why?” 

“There’s a date, however tentative, for me not having to just beat off to the idea of you living with me,” Jon smiled into the next kiss. 

Favs batted his eyes exaggeratedly. “Such a fucking romantic.” 

“Want me to wine and dine you?” Jon asked, biting just below Favs color bone and eliciting the nicest little moan. “I mean, we can wait…” 

Favs response was throwing him on the bed. He liked knowing Favs favorite spots. 

* 

Jon’s second Favreau family Christmas _should_ have been about a hundred times better than the first year. He would have settled for the awkwardness and a little uptight nature of the year before. Instead, he found himself in a fight with Favs about three hours after he landed. 

“You did _what_?” Jon asked, his voice a whispering yell as he didn’t want anyone else to hear it. 

Favs was standing in front of his old bed, the one that Jon was seated on, legs crossed. “Listen, Tommy, and I thought we would make it in LA, but it’s probably best to stay in DC for a while. We have clout. We were talking about it, and it just seemed like the best place to start the company.” 

“And in all the time you were talking about it you didn’t seem to think about talking to me about it? I put an offer in on a freaking house, Jon. It’s probably going to be accepted. A _house_.” 

Favs flinched. “I’m still planning on coming to LA, and this just shifts the timeline a little.” 

“Define ‘a little’.” 

“Well, we want to get it started, and then there’s the U Chicago fellowship for me…” 

“You took the fellowship? YOU TOOK THE FELLOWSHIP?” Apparently, the urge to keep it quiet was gone.

Favs shifted in front of him. “It’s only from March to July. I’ll be half there, half DC. We’ll work the business together. I’m thinking at the end of the year I’ll move to LA and start up a branch there. There are always people looking for a speech writer there.” 

“Then why can’t you move in March, when you planned it?” Jon asked. 

“This is _important_ Lovett,” Favs said. “I need to keep up a steady income.”

Jon stood up but didn’t allow himself any closer to Favs. “Are you freaking kidding me? I know how you live, I know what your income is, so unless you’ve been buying coke and hookers in Brazil than I highly doubt you don’t have the ‘responsible’ six-month buffer in your damn high yield savings account for a rainy day.” 

“But it _isn’t_ a rainy day,” Favs said. “It’s a regular day, with a job that was practically handed to me. I can’t be fiscally irresponsible.” 

“So, and let me just see if I’m getting this right here,” Jon said, hands in full speed movement mode. “You think that this is far more important than finally moving to Los Angeles, which you’ve been talking about for years, to be with your boyfriend, who you’ve never lived in the same city with while dating.” 

Favs lips went thin, and it was just as frustrating in real life as it had been on his computer over the last few months. “I’m trying here, Lovett.” 

“If this is you trying than I really don’t want to know what the hell you think _not trying_ is like,” Jon snipped, turning to the door and walking out. 

From behind him, he heard Favs call his name, but he was not in the mood. He walked down the stairs and into the family room. The other Favreaus were seated watching TV, and Favs mom looked up to give him an odd look. 

“You okay? I thought you guys were taking a nap?” 

He faked a smile. “I couldn’t sleep. I think I might take the rental and go for a little drive.” 

He slipped his Toms on and forgoed a sweater, even though there was snow outside and it was probably at tops in the thirties. He at least remembered his cellphone and the keys. The car they had rented wasn’t too fancy, but it did have Bluetooth which was nice as he was in the mood to listen to loud music and not think about the fact that he had no choice but to go back to the house. 

“You forgot your jacket!” Mrs. Favreau called out. 

He drove around for the better part of two hours, something he only indeed recognized when he finally looked at his phone and saw texts with time stamps on them from Favs and then from Andy, who was more curious about the fight than his general safety or well being. He responded to Andy because he couldn’t be assed to talk to Favs at that moment. It was short, and simple and he made sure to avoid the reason for the fight. He told him he was on the way back. 

When he got back to the Favreaus’ house, he found Favs seated on the top step, jacket and a hat on, looking at his gloved hands. A part of him wasn’t sure if he was in some Disney Channel Christmas. Except for the whole Jewish portion and the two guys part.

He turned the car off and Favs looked up. He seemed as tentative as Jon felt, sitting rock still as he watches Jon get out of the car and walk towards him. 

“Please tell me you haven’t been here the whole time,” Jon said, his brain full of half-remembered details about freezing statistics. He had a jacket, and his head had been covered, but it had to be dangerous to be out in this weather entirely still for two hours. 

Favs sniffed but shook his head. “Only since you texted Andy.”

“Jon, that was nearly twenty minutes ago!” 

“You’re not even wearing a jacket!” 

There was a pause, and Jon let out an awkward laugh. “Okay. Well, we’re both complete idiots.” 

“I don’t want to have this about this with my parents around, but you need to come inside.” 

Jon, who had finally gotten the cold through his flimsy sweater and was beginning to shiver, rubbed his hands together and tilted his head to the side. “Car?” 

“Okay,” Favs nodded and stood up. “Get in, and you must be freaking freezing.” 

“What makes you think that?” Jon said, his breath puffing out in a stutter. 

He took the front seat, instantly slipping the key in the ignition and turning it back on. The good thing was he hadn’t been out of it long enough for it to need to reheat that much, so the air that came out of the vents was warm against his hands. 

Favs buckled his seat belt when he got in, and Jon tilted his head. “We’re not going anywhere.” 

“We should at least go out of the driveway,” Favs pointed at light behind the curtains, which suddenly went from light to dark way too fast. “My family is nosy.”

Jon frowned, buckled himself up and drove down the driveway and the street, the music from his phone playing over the speakers. He’d been listening to John Mayer, something Favs pretended to like for him. When it switched to “Slow Dancing in a Burning Room” he shut it off. A little too painful for him at that moment. 

He finally pulled into a small gas station two and a half miles from the house. The car was warm and painfully quiet. He found himself staring at the pile of black snow in front of their car. 

“They don’t tell you about the black snow, it would ruin the romance of the whole White Christmas,” he said, nonsensically. 

“I’ll get on writing a song about the Slush of Christmas,” Favs said, and his voice was almost amused. 

Jon braced his hands on the wheel, even with the car in park, and twisted them nervously. “What the hell are we even doing, Jon?” 

Favs was quiet, didn’t even make the obvious sarcastic joke. He knew he’d had two and a half hours of thinking under his belt, but that had given Favs the same amount of time to go over and over things in his overly intelligent mind. It made something inside of Jon feel sick, the space between them, the time that had been given for both of them to think. It was all adding up to a dangerous equation, one that could be solved only one of two ways and while he appreciated the definite nature of math, this was not the kind he liked. Fifty-fifty Russian Roulette, Schrödinger’s cat of a relationship. 

“Jon,” he repeated. “What are we doing?” 

“We’re fighting,” Favs said, blinking and turning in his seat. “Couples have fights, and we’re having one.” 

He exhaled a huff of air, relief flooding in at the word couple but being quickly replaced by a simmering annoyance. “This isn’t me leaving a damn towel on the floor, Favreau, which I do. All the time. And you would notice it and be annoyed by it if you lived with me. I pick it up while you visit because you’re a guest. That’s messed up.”

“I’m working towards it, Lovett,” Favs sounded so tired. “I’m trying. I promise.” 

It was not the time nor place to quote Yoda, but he almost did. He almost yelled ‘Try harder.’ Or ‘You’re failing.’ But none seemed to get past his lips. He tilted his head up at the ceiling and frowned. This was just not what he wanted or expected from not only this trip but from Favs in General. 

October had left him with what could only be considered a new sense of hope and excitement. He’d gone house shopping, even though prices in LA were crazy. He’d talked at length with his coworkers. He’d allowed himself just to move forward and let the image of a life form, which wasn’t all Favs fault. Favs had told him what he was thinking beforehand. The what ifs. He’d just… _wanted_. 

“We’re talking months,” Favs continued, he didn’t look, but he knew what a desperate looking Favs looked like. “Maybe six or eight months. I know, I _know_ you’d hoped it was less, but I need to be responsible here. I’m still in DC and working. I need to get my feet under me. I can’t even imagine NOT working in the White House yet.” 

He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, a trick given to him during his anxiety-filled teen years (followed by his anxiety-filled twenties and his thirties weren’t looking much different). “Months?” 

“ _Months_. I’ll send you a flipping calendar with the date circled.” 

He moved his head to look at him. “Really, Favreau? Can’t you figure out Google Calendar? You were the valedictorian of your freaking class.” 

The furrow of Favs’ brow smoothed as he let out an unexpected laugh. “We can’t all be math geniuses.” 

“It requires absolutely zero math skills to hit the right button on your phone,” Jon said and grabbed his phone out of the center console. He opened the Calendar app and went to August of the next year. His birthday was already labeled. He flipped it to September and found their anniversary, opening it up and showing it to Favs. “Reasonable?”

Favs blinked at the date and licked his lips. “Reasonable.” 

He typed in at the top, just below “ **Three Years** ” the words “ **Favs moves home**.” 

“I’m sorry,” Favs said and when Jon looked up, a little confused as what the apology was for, pressed his lips forward to kiss him. “Please don’t run. I thought you’d left.” 

“Without my laptop?” Jon said but kissed him back. “I’m in this. Don’t doubt that. Even when you are driving me fucking nuts.” 

Favs body relaxed, and Jon almost felt guilty. He wondered if he should talk about the whole thing more. But it was Christmas, which meant nothing to him but everything to the Favreaus. He exhaled and caught Favs’ lips one more time. 

“I’m in it too, Lovett. Don’t doubt that. Now, can we please go home? My mom is going to freak out. She thinks you’re upset with the house or something.” 

Jon frowned. “You know I have to deal with Jewish mom guilt. I’m getting a SECOND source of mom guilt. This isn’t fair.” 

“Welcome to my world,” Favs smiled. “She wondered if the sheets were too rough.” 

“The _sheets_?” 

Favs raised his eyebrows and shrugged. 

“Wait. I’m running into the grocery station, and I’m going to need more Diet Coke for this,” Jon said. He got out of the car and heard Favs yelling ‘addict!’ after him. 

*

He flew out to Washington for the guys’ last days. He had to plead for the time off, but it felt like it was important to be there. Favs sounded increasingly anxious when they talked on the phone. Tommy was more restless, but he mostly only chatted with him on the group chat they had and a few random phone calls, maybe he misread him. He’d been ready to leave for a while, and he and Hanna were moving in together, so it felt like the right time. 

It only stung a little that Hanna and Tommy were making the move in thing before he and Jon, but their story was different than his and Favs. He got that. Put into that the countdown which he’d downloaded an app specifically for on his phone to remind him just how many days left before Favs was his for good and he was comfortably happy for them. 

He and Hanna got along well, which was nice. He hadn’t spent too much time with her, but the fact that they were both Jews gave them a jumping off point, and the fact that their significant others were painfully WASPy was a beautiful little thing they could share. 

On the final day, he and Hanna went to lunch to celebrate while the guys were technically doing work. She spent the first part telling him about how she had been sneaking things in and out of Tommy’s house in prep for the move in. 

“Ugh, moving twice in a year?” Jon responded. “I’d live out of boxes if I were you.” 

Hanna tilted her head. “We aren’t moving for a year, with Fenway just starting… Tommy figures that a year minimum would be the best idea.” 

_A year minimum_. It rang in his head. He felt the blood drain out of his face. 

“Jon?” Hanna said. “You okay?” 

Jon shook his head, to clear it and also a little to say no no no, he wasn’t. “Of course, I forgot about the minimum thing. It’s been so freaking busy lately.” 

“I can imagine,” she smiled. “What’s it like to help run a show? Is it like Hollywood makes it seem? All messy whiteboards, take out and trash can basketball?” 

“I…” he swallowed, hard. “Yeah. It’s like that, a little. But also a lot of typing and gross smells.” 

She laughed, and he forced a smile at her. “Well, yeah. Of course. Too many men.” 

He cringed. It was true, but even the women in his group were the same way. He was still processing the information when he got a text from Favs asking if he wanted to come to the White House and say hi to the President. It was distracting enough that he let himself finish his meal, pay for them both and shrug off the nasty feeling in his gut. 

*

Between talking to the President for all of four minutes and then heading out for beer afterward, he’d forgotten the conversation with Hanna by the time Favs and he had stumbled into Favs place a few hours later. There was drunken fumbling, making out like they were going to get caught followed by exhausted cuddling and falling asleep entangled in each other.

Jon and Favs left the next day, Jon going home to Los Angeles while Favs headed to Chicago to start his fellowship. It helped Jon to at least pretend they were leaving together all the way until Favs flight was called and he was left alone again. He put his earbuds in and ignored the feeling of dread he always got when they said goodbye. That this might be the last goodbye. 

It wasn’t rational, but when was he ever rational? 

* 

Somehow, Favs’ Fellowship and working at Fenway Strategy lined up almost directly in the time where Jon had time off and when Favs had a rare moment off was generally when Jon was asleep. They kept up a decent chat though, the two of them sending weird random things back and forth, pictures and book recommendations that they sometimes would then half-ass book club about. 

It was hard and painful, but the show was a decent enough distraction. He threw himself headlong into each day like he was a med student, staying late and drinking more caffeine that was advisable for a normal human being. On the side he work-shopped some scripts, enjoying the extra money and the means to keep him from spending every waking moment wondering what Favs was doing. 

They had a standing date to sit and Skype on Sunday afternoons, which was kept and pleasant. He wondered how long he could spend his time just looking as Favs went on about students and speeches and the things he saw in Chicago. (He called it Chi-town once, but apparently, Jon’s echoing laugh deterred him from ever doing it again.) 

One random Sunday they couldn’t do the date as Favs had a meeting with Tommy, not shocking in the least, but he called him afterward, and Jon knew he was on speaker in Favs car from the echoing of his voice. 

“Hey,” Favs said, the tone of his voice one that never bodes well for anyone. Or at least never boded well for Jon. 

“Heeeey?”

“It’s looking like October or November.” 

Jon had almost been expecting it, but the words dropped like a bomb into the phone line. He wanted to scream. He wanted to yell. He wanted to hang up and not answer again. Instead, he inhaled slowly and exhaled before he spoke. “Okay.”

The line was silent for a minute. “Okay?” 

“Can I persuade you to change it?” he asked, feeling altogether too tired for four pm on a Sunday. 

“Tommy and Hanna are digging their heels on staying out here for a while longer, so I’ll have to start the firm by myself out there which means…” 

Jon made a noise. “It doesn’t matter, does it? November.” 

“I’m coming, Lovett, I really truly am.” 

Jon didn’t say the built-up block of words in his head. He was a speechwriter, after all, he could rant if he wanted to. But what good would it do him? He let the air between them speak for himself though, and the silence was deafening. 

“Lovett?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I love you.” 

He pinched his nose. “I love you, too.” 

Favs went on to talk about other things, obviously trying to bring the conversation back up to normal, but it wasn’t. Jon piped up a few times, but he didn’t really have anything to say so the phone call ended abruptly a few minutes later. He took Pundit for a walk, ordered some take out and put on the TV. He couldn’t have said what was on it, but the noise was a decent enough comfort. 

*

March and April kind of faded together into a lump of work, the last day of shooting happening the final week of April. It was a strange feeling in the air when they hit the shutter. But it wasn’t all sad. They all ended up at Jason’s house with an ample amount of alcohol and food. The cast took more photos then he thought possible, and he spent a good hour drunkenly talking with Josh about possible story arcs for the next season.

He called Favs at about four in the morning, knowing he was awake in Chicago, and had a conversation while he lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling. 

They talked about the show, and Favs insisted it was going to be renewed. Something about the words he said made Jon feel hollow, but he couldn’t place it, so he didn’t say anything. He told him about what Josh had spoke about doing a storyline that would lead to the President falling asleep at a Summit and Favs laughed through it. 

Between one joke and another he fell asleep and woke sometime after noon to a text from Favs that merely said, “Don’t let your too-full brain talk you into thinking bad things. You’re made for this.”

Even though he didn’t plan on deleting the message, he screencapped it to save for later. His life was going through weird shifts, and he was just trying to grab on when he could. 

*

The thing was, if he was honest, he had been bracing himself for the cancellation for weeks. He knew it was coming, and he wasn’t an idiot. He’d seen the numbers and knew the market viability. He loved the show, loved it more than he thought it could be to love something that wasn’t writing for the freaking President with some of his best friends. But it was his baby, he’d been there almost from the conception, and now it was just gone. 

So when the call came down to him, he was not sure why it felt like a punch to the gut. Pundit was on his feet, but the noise he made apparently upset her as a moment later she was up on the couch beside him, whining softly and licking his face. 

He realized a moment later that he was crying. Not full on sobs or anything, but enough for his dog to find the salt satisfying. He sat for a while, unsure as to how long. But there was a point where he realized he should probably do something. Say something. He grabbed his phone from the place it had fallen when he ended the call and hit Favs number on his last called list. 

It rang four times and then the answering machine went. This hadn’t been an uncommon experience in the last few months since he’d gone to Chicago, but he’d known that today was the day. It might have even leaked. God, he had to call his parents. But that wasn’t the point. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice sounding tinny to his ears. “The show wasn’t picked up. Call me.” 

He called his parents next, followed by a few closer friends. The groupchat from the cast and crew of 1600 PENN was full of heartfelt goodbyes and a slowly growing plan to have a “fuck you” party. He half read it, but he couldn’t get himself to invest without risk of freaking the fuck out emotionally. 

He tried calling again, but this time after the third ring he was sent to voicemail. No text. No nothing. A knot formed slowly in his stomach. 

“ _My show got canceled._ ” 

There was no read receipt. 

He curled in on himself on the couch and stared at his blank TV. The only way he knew time was moving was the light on the wall. If he were more maudlin he would put on something like Adele and cry but that would take movement, and he didn't feel like moving ever again. 

He must have fallen asleep because at some point he was woken by his phone buzzing on his chest. He sat up rapidly, ready to talk to Favs so badly it hurt. But it wasn’t Favs. It was Tommy. Which, while nice, was kind of a poke in the chest. 

“Hey,” he answered, and sure, he was aware he sounded like a sullen teenager but whatever. 

“Hey,” Tommy said, cautious as a bomb expert. “Sorry about the whole…” 

Jon didn’t want to hear what he would go on, _if_ he could go on. “… Epic failure?” 

“Come on Lovett,” Tommy said. “Do you know how many shows get a PILOT let alone MORE episodes than that?” 

Which was fair and rational and honest and he could care fucking less. “Yeah, of course. I feel a hundred percent better. You’ve solved it, Vietor. Thanks.” 

“I’m just saying.” 

“I get what you’re saying,” he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m just not in the mood to hear it, okay?” 

“Understood.” 

He looked at his phone and realized it was six in the evening. “Shit I’ve done nothing today.” 

“That’s okay, and you have the right to mope, Lovett,” Tommy said. 

“It’s not _moping_. Fuck you,” Jon snapped but stopped himself. “Wait, sorry. Moping. I just. I haven’t even moved since 11.” 

Tommy made a weird noise that sounded like disapproval. “What about Pundit?” 

“I have a dog door, and it’s not like she doesn’t have food. I’m not _inhumane_.” 

“I forgot, you’re in a house now,” he said. “Weird.”

Jon rubbed his face again and sighed. “Yup, like a fully fledged adult or something.” 

“Wouldn’t go that far,” Tommy teased. Jon guessed he should laugh, but it wasn’t funny. He had put the phone on speaker and was checking the various apps he could to see if he’d missed a call, text, or email from Favs. There was nothing. 

“Have you heard from Favreau?” he asked. “Seeing as he’s _your_ work husband.” 

Tommy didn’t rise to the bait of his whining, which was annoying. He would like to get into some verbal sparring. He needed to vent some of this anger somehow. 

“No, but he probably went out, there was a function or something at the University.” 

“I tried calling earlier, and he didn’t answer,” he said. 

“Maybe he forgot his phone?” 

Jon exhaled. “Sure. I guess that’s possible. Look, I’m not at my finest right now, and I don’t want to just yell at you or something so can we just say you did your good friend job and call it a day?” 

“I wasn’t doing a job, Lovett.” 

Jon exhaled. “You suck. Don’t make me feel emotions.” 

“Wouldn’t dare it,” Tommy said chirpily. “Call me if you need something.” 

It wasn’t a question, but he grunted his response. 

The phone went dead, and he looked again through all the portals, there was too many of them. But yeah, not a call. Or a text. Hell, he hadn’t even read the text that he’d sent him earlier. His stomach churned, and he wasn’t sure if it was only the lack of food. 

*

He woke early the next morning to a buzzing of his phone. He picked it up to see six texts from Favs in rapid succession. 

“ _Fuck, I’m sorry Lovett._

_Last night was a Donor event._

__I was in class and then had to head over._ _

___Didn’t get a chance to check my phone and I got a little drunk. Just woke up._ _ _

____I’m so sorry, Jon._ _ _ _

_____Fuck, it’s like six am for you, isn’t it? Sorry._ ” _ _ _ _

____He made sure that they were marked as seen and rolled over, shoving Favs extra pillow on top of his head and didn’t fall back to sleep. Instead of opting to go over every single second of the last twenty-four hours over and over again. His brain was fucking excellent at it._ _ _ _

____An hour later there was a pounding on the door. He pulled the pillow off of his head, and double checked the clock. There was no way that Jon could have made it across the nation in that amount of time. Let alone to his house from the airport._ _ _ _

____Whoever it was was stubborn as fuck, and had officially alerted Pundit to wakefulness. If nothing else he would answer the door just to yell at the idiot who was at his door at 7 in the damn morning._ _ _ _

____It was Andy. Of course, it was Andy. Because just what he wanted to do was see a freaking actor right then and a Favreau to boot._ _ _ _

____“What the hell are you doing here? And why now? Did Favs send you?”_ _ _ _

____Andy tilted his head. “No. My brother didn’t. I just heard about … _it_ at the gym and I figured I’d swing by.” _ _ _ _

____“Who goes to the gym at six in the morning?”_ _ _ _

____“Actors? Sports athletes? This one choice blonde who likes to watch me do my stretches.”_ _ _ _

____Jon couldn’t help but make a face. “Oh seriously, don’t make me imagine that. Please god, haven’t I suffered enough?”_ _ _ _

____“You know, Jon’s right. You are a bit overdramatic about shit.”_ _ _ _

____Something cold slid down his back. “What the fuck?”_ _ _ _

____“No, no, I mean…” Andy put up his hands and then seemingly lost all steam. “Not in a bad way?”_ _ _ _

____“Then in _what way_?” _ _ _ _

____Andy flipped his hands in a way that was almost funny if not for the fact that he was exhausted, sad, and apparently a drama queen, according to his boyfriend._ _ _ _

____“Also, my show got _canceled_ , shouldn’t you have solidarity or something?” _ _ _ _

____“You had a freaking good run, dude,” Andy said. “Do you know how many shows don’t make it past the pilot?”_ _ _ _

____Was this part of some “Guide to Your Friend Losing Their Show” he’d never been given before? He was going to stab someone if they said it to him again. It was unhelpful and rude. Like telling someone with a broken arm that at least they HAVE an arm to be broken. Okay, that was _true_ but it didn’t mean that it hurt less. _ _ _ _

____“You should go,” Jon said. “I’m not in the mood for Favreaus right now.”_ _ _ _

____Andy’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? What did my brother do?”_ _ _ _

____“You want to play defense for your brother right now? Cause that would be the icing on this pity party cake.”_ _ _ _

____“You know as well as I do I’ll probably take your side, Lovett,” Andy rubbed a hand through his hair. “Come on. Let me in. It’s cold in the morning.”_ _ _ _

____It was probably at least 70 degrees; if he ever reached that peak of Angeleno, he was moving to the tundra. Granted, he was wearing gym clothes, so he had to give him that, at least. He swung the door open, and Pundit wiggled happily and jumped up on Andy, who picked her up._ _ _ _

____“How is my favorite niece?” Andy smiled, as Pundit preened and licked him alternately._ _ _ _

____“Hussy,” he said. “I’m the one who feeds you.”_ _ _ _

____Andy turned around and gave him a look. “You’re jealous of your dog and me?”_ _ _ _

____“No,” he scoffed. “Yes? Look, my brain is not in a great place. Let’s maybe ignore this for a while.”_ _ _ _

____Andy shook his head. “Naw, man. What is going on? You and my brother, last I checked, were nauseating and adorable. You have dogs from the same breeder a million miles apart. You talk more than I ever talked to my high school girlfriend and we dated in the same city for two years.”_ _ _ _

____Jon felt his hackles rise a little. “Oh, same city. Must be nice.”_ _ _ _

____“You guys knew that going in,” Andy said. “Remember? You started dating when you _left_ DC. I still think that is the opposite of a meet-cute. That’s a finally fuck-leave. If I could figure out a script…” _ _ _ _

____He must have caught the look of disapproval on Jon’s face because he shrugged. “Okay, it sucks to live so far apart. It sucks to lose your job. What has dear Jonathan done this time?”_ _ _ _

____It was seven in the morning, he hadn’t even had caffeine yet, and he was pretty sure he smelled rank as hell. He shouldn’t be spilling his guts to his boyfriend’s brother. It was pretty much the lamest thing he could do. But he couldn’t have this conversation with Tommy, and he couldn’t have it with any of his coworkers. Well, ex-coworkers. He hadn’t made close friends on this coast even in the two years he’d worked there. He was just done._ _ _ _

____He sat down on the nearest chair, the one that he never used but whatever. He just needed off his feet. Andy took the couch, and in real Andy fashion he almost took up the whole thing only by sitting in the middle and spreading his legs._ _ _ _

____“He was going to move once he left the White House,” he said and was surprised at how even his voice sounded. “He was going to move in here. We were going to move in _together_. That’s why I bought this stupid house in the first place. _ _ _ _

____“But he decided he wanted to start the company with Tommy. So that would put it off a few months, so they could get it started, and then he’d move here to be the West Coast Branch. Except he took a fellowship at U Chicago, which moved it more. Now it’s just this what if in the future.”_ _ _ _

____Andy looked at him blankly, mouth slightly agape. “Moving here?”_ _ _ _

____“He didn’t even TELL you?” Jon felt himself go a little nauseated, his mouth watering and not in a good way._ _ _ _

____“To be fair we don’t talk about like, deep stuff,” Andy shifted his stance to close his legs. He didn’t even need the stupid Psych classes he took in college to read that. Closing himself off, protecting himself._ _ _ _

____“And then, coup de grâce, yesterday I told him I got fired, and you know what he said?”_ _ _ _

____Andy’s eyes couldn’t meet his. “What?”_ _ _ _

____“NOTHING! Cause get this: even though he knew I would be hearing about it yesterday, he was too busy with his work colleagues even to fathom checking to see if I still had a damn job. So there’s that. It’s quite awesome, you know, being someone’s back up back up.”_ _ _ _

____“That’s not true, Lovett, and you know it,” Andy said._ _ _ _

____Jon tilted an eyebrow at him. “Do I know it? Cause I feel like I don’t know it. I feel like, instead, I know the opposite of it.”_ _ _ _

____“He _loves_ you,” Andy said. “I mean, you’ve been together forever…” _ _ _ _

____“Two and a half years,” Jon said and tried not to sound as snappy. It wasn’t Andy’s fault his brother was being a dick, even if he had the same DNA. “And we’ve probably spent maybe two months of that in the same area code.”_ _ _ _

____“Well, now that your show is over you can take some time…” Andy started but put his own hands up. “That was dick. Okay, I admit it. Dick as hell. No. Ignore that.”_ _ _ _

____“I have to find another job, Andy,” Jon said. “I’m not the type to sit around and do nothing for long stretches. I’ve been working on script clean up, but I need a _job_. And what would it be like if I went to Chicago? He works all day, and I just wait for him. _ _ _ _

____“He couldn’t even respond to a TEXT yesterday. Do I want to build up resentment ALL day and then just explode at him when he comes in the door? Insist he doesn’t go out? I’m not that kind of person.”_ _ _ _

____Andy shifted uncomfortably on the couch, and Pundit nudged at him until he started to pet her. “Are you telling me you’re going to break up with my brother?”_ _ _ _

_____Fuck_. _ _ _ _

____The question hung in the air like a word bubble in a comic book. Jon hadn’t thought about it, honestly. Or if he had it had been abstractly, like how life would be different had he stayed in DC, or if Favs had followed through on his damn promise to come here and how he almost wished that first night in DC nearly three years before hadn’t happened._ _ _ _

____But _breaking up_? That was an epic statement. That was wiping everything away. That was over. That was no more Skype, or FaceTime, no funny texts that showed up while he was on set, no pictures of random lines of texts from kids papers. He wasn’t sure what that would feel like. _ _ _ _

____Andy looked increasingly anxious, rubbing at Pundit’s ears and silently staring Jon down. Jon stared back and thought if there was a way to answer without lying._ _ _ _

____“I’m not _planning_ on breaking up with your brother,” he said finally because he wasn’t. He hadn’t even considered it until a minute before. It was just a consideration. _ _ _ _

____Andy sagged back into Jon’s couch. “Oh, thank fuck. I mean, maybe he's an ass, and I’m sorry about the whole _moving_ thing, but Jon loves you. I don’t want to see him hurt. I know I’m the youngest, but he’s my brother, you know?” _ _ _ _

____Not particularly, but he got the concept. “I’m just tired.”_ _ _ _

____“Want to go get some coffee? Or breakfast?”_ _ _ _

____Jon looked at the clock below the TV. It was 7:34, and he was awake. He might be able to convince his body to go back to sleep for a while, but it would just make him feel like shit later. He shrugged. “There’s a place a few miles from here that Pundit likes. They give her water and T-R-E-A-T-S. Coffee isn’t half bad, and the food is pretty good.”_ _ _ _

____“Wow, you should write copy for commercials, Lovett,” Andy said, smirking at him._ _ _ _

____“Shut up. I’m going to get dressed. You should just be glad they’ll let you in in gym attire.”_ _ _ _

____Andy looked at him deadpan. “Couldn’t I just borrow your clothes?”_ _ _ _

____“Cute,” Jon said. “You want to look like the Hulk halfway transformed?”_ _ _ _

____“I was thinking more like a giant among peasants, but we can go with yours.”_ _ _ _

____He flipped him off and walked towards his bedroom, surprised to find that Pundit jumped off the couch to follow him. Usually when a Favreau was nearby the last thing on Pundit’s mind was Jon. He couldn’t blame her, they were not without their charms._ _ _ _

____It took all of two minutes for him to get dressed, it would have probably been less had he not had to go hunting for a shirt that didn’t have a stain on it and he put on the top of his mental list of shit to get done to feel better a load of laundry. Or possibly a shower. He didn’t figure it mattered for the moment, he looked like shit and he felt like shit so why not smell the same? Plus they’d be eating outside, but when he got home? Yeah. Laundry and shower._ _ _ _

____He came out of his room to find Andy with his phone pressed to his ear, mid saying something but as soon as he saw Jon he froze like Pundit mid-peeing in the house. His eyes looked painfully like Favs when he didn’t get a joke and it made Jon hate everything. “Uh, I got to go.”_ _ _ _

____As soon as his phone hit the couch Jon rolled his eyes. “Who was that?”_ _ _ _

____“My agent.”_ _ _ _

____The phone began to vibrate against the seat._ _ _ _

____“You know, for a guy who keeps getting parts, you need to work on your everyday acting. I’m not saying I could do THAT much better but that was some truly horrid shit,” Jon said. The phone stopped and started again. “You going to answer that?”_ _ _ _

____Andy nervously looked down at the phone. “No. I’m good.”_ _ _ _

____“Well, if it’s your agent,” Jon snarked. “Maybe you got that role you’re up for.”_ _ _ _

____“I’m not up for any role,” Andy said._ _ _ _

____The phone stopped buzzing on the couch and within two seconds the phone in his pocket started to buzz. He looked at Andy._ _ _ _

____“Your agent calling me?”_ _ _ _

____Andy looked abashed. “Okay, I called him.”_ _ _ _

____Jon slipped his hand in to his pocket and saw the same stupid looking picture that had been there for years. He felt his chest tighten. “You couldn’t have waited till _after_ breakfast?” _ _ _ _

____The picture went away and it alerted him he had one missed call. Before he could even consider calling back, the phone started vibrating again. He looked at it and debated hard whether he should just let it go for a while. Maybe give himself to breathe and not be so angry. It went black again, but again it started to buzz._ _ _ _

____“Answer!” Andy yelled and Jon’s head jerked up. He’d forgotten he was there. “Look, he’s a stubborn fuck. This will keep going until he either gets a hold of us or breaks one of our phones.”_ _ _ _

____Jon hit the little green button on the screen before he let his brain talk him out of it. He put the phone to his ear and tried his best to sound calm. “Good morning.”_ _ _ _

____“What the hell was Andy talking about?” Favs sounded out of breath._ _ _ _

____“I wouldn’t know, I was in the other room. Had I been _in_ the room he wouldn’t have **called**.” He glared down the younger Favreau, who was looking intently at his phone but not doing anything with it. _ _ _ _

____“How are you doing?”_ _ _ _

____Jon turned on his heels and started towards his bedroom. Andy really didn’t want to hear any of this, nor did he want him to. “Fucking fantastic, Jon. Thanks for asking.”_ _ _ _

____Favs let out a sigh. “I’m sorry about your show. I did call you.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, a whole day after I called you,” he snapped._ _ _ _

____“I had class, and office hours, then that stupid function,” Favs said. “I barely had a chance to pee…”_ _ _ _

____“But you knew that yesterday I would find out. I _told you_. Were you even listening?” _ _ _ _

____He was yelling. He needed to stop but he couldn’t quite make himself do so. He was just so… frustrated and exhausted._ _ _ _

____Favs used his overly calm voice, something that genuinely never worked with him and he hated more than anything. “I’m sorry. I really should have checked my phone, I just didn’t, Lovett.”_ _ _ _

____“Are you KIDDING me? You _just didn’t_? That is fresh bullshit and you know it.” He closed the door possibly a little to hard and Pundit jumped up on the bed in fear. _ _ _ _

____“Can we at least do this face to face?” Favs asked and Jon thought for a second that Favs was coming to LA, maybe that was why he was out of breath. “Are you near your computer?”_ _ _ _

____Jon deflated. Of course. His computer. The most important factor in his freaking relationship, a beat up Mac that needed to be freaking replaced. Symbolic. He didn’t answer Favs, instead opening his computer and typing in his password. Skype was already opened, from his half hopes of Favs calling the night before. Favs was already on and with in a moment he saw his name and face popping onto his screen. He hit the green button and hung up on his phone._ _ _ _

____When Favs came on the screen he looked pale and sweaty, possibly hung over or more likely just coming back from working out. Jon hated the way his stomach jumped and his fingers ached to just run a hand through his stupid hair, matted to his head._ _ _ _

____“Hey,” Favs said, looking abashed and tired. “You look horrible.”_ _ _ _

____He bristled. “Well you look like the Mona fucking Lisa.”_ _ _ _

____Favs pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I should have called yesterday…”_ _ _ _

____“You could have texted,” Jon said. “Or messaged me on Facebook. Or I don’t know, sent smoke signals. You didn’t even read the text.”_ _ _ _

____“I told you, I was doing stuff for the Fellowship.”_ _ _ _

____Jon tilted his head. “Which makes it obviously impossible to look at your phone and open a text message. I respond from the writer’s room, I respond from the _set_ ” _ _ _ _

____“That’s different…”_ _ _ _

____“How? I’m at work. I look at my damn phone every once in a while. It’s not a long transaction…”_ _ _ _

____Favs’ frown deepened. “I can’t change it now, okay? I’m sorry. What else do you want from me?”_ _ _ _

____“I want you _here_ ,” he blurted out. “I don’t want your BROTHER on my couch here to console me, I want _you_.” _ _ _ _

____“You know I can’t get out to LA for at least a few months,” Favs said softly. “I mean, I have the Fellowship for another month and then I have to keep up with the work for Fenway. Tommy’s been taking the lion’s share of the work, which hasn’t been fair.”_ _ _ _

____Jon’s stomach felt like he’d swallowed cement. It was like Favs didn’t get it at all, in anyway. He licked his lips. “When are you moving here, Jon?”_ _ _ _

____Favs face, if possible, went a little paler. “You know I said I had to move it to the end of the fall, early winter.”_ _ _ _

____“You _were_ going to move here when you left the White House, which you told me you were going to do _last year_. Then you _were_ going to do it in March, but the Fellowship got in the way. Then when the Fellowship ended. Then definitely by our anniversary. Forgive me if your word doesn’t feel like a bond here.” _ _ _ _

____“Maybe it’s not so easy for all people to drop everything they love and move across the fucking country as it was for you, Lovett,” Favs barked._ _ _ _

____There was a long and painful whoosh of air between them. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was supposed to be reacting to at that moment. The fact that Favs had all but admitted that he was putting off moving to the West Coast, or maybe the fact that he talked about leaving _everything_ he loved, like Jon wasn’t waiting for him in Los Angeles. Either way it took him a long minute to get the air back in his lungs. _ _ _ _

____“Everything you love?” He stumbled on the words, feeling stupid and like his tongue was suddenly the wrong shape for his mouth._ _ _ _

____Favs, who’s face had gotten color back in the color of bright red. “You… that’s not what I meant and you know it.”_ _ _ _

____“I think I know what you meant,” Jon said, and he felt smaller than he had in a while. “You meant the important things to you.”_ _ _ _

____“Wait, you’re important to me,” Favs said._ _ _ _

____“Not enough to move.”_ _ _ _

____Favs didn’t say anything to that. He just stared at the camera and gaped. Jon felt hot angry tears forming in the corner of his eyes. He didn’t know if he was angrier at the words or the fact that he was going to let Favs see him cry about it. Even though Favs had seen him cry plenty of times. He took a deep breath._ _ _ _

____“You’re not moving here,” he said, not a question, not even rhetorical. Just a fact. “You’ve not really even been thinking about it.”_ _ _ _

____“I’ve thought about it,” Favs said, but it was not the words Jon needed to here._ _ _ _

____Jon wiped at his face with one palm. He swallowed and inhaled. “I guess that’s that.”_ _ _ _

____“Wait, what?” Favs said._ _ _ _

____“I’m not coming back to DC. I’m done with that part of my life. I have a house here, a dog, I’ll find a new job. I’m not spending my life wondering what you are doing. Missing you. Hating my fucking phone. I’m… done.”_ _ _ _

____Favs face went tight. “You’re _done_? Don’t I get a say in this at all?” _ _ _ _

____“I think you’ve said enough,” Jon said. “Don’t you?”_ _ _ _

____“Jon, I love you.”_ _ _ _

____He felt the twist in his chest. “Oh fuck off, Favreau… I love you. Goodbye.”_ _ _ _

____He hit the red button before he could look at Favs for another moment._ _ _ _

____The room felt emptier than he thought possible, even with a confused looking Pundit at his feet._ _ _ _

____Had he really just done that? Had he just broken up with Favs? Or had Favs broken up with him? It all blurred together. Favs wasn’t going to move to Los Angeles. He wasn’t. He hadn’t really been planning on it, or if he had, he was apparently thinking about it like Jon thought about winning an Oscar. Sure, it _could_ happen. But it was something so distant he wasn’t making a freaking thank you list. _ _ _ _

____His stomach churned, reminding him it was painfully empty and then reminding him that he was supposed to go get food. With Andy. Who was in the other room. Andy. Andy _Favreau_. Jon pushed himself up, sure his face was red and puffy, and not sure he wasn’t still crying but whatever. _ _ _ _

____Andy was already standing when he got out in the hallway, his mouth hanging open in a way that spoke to him knowing what was about to come out of Jon’s mouth._ _ _ _

____“You need to leave,” he said, desperation evident._ _ _ _

____Andy looked torn. “You broke up?”_ _ _ _

____“I need you to just… go, Andy, _please_ ,” he repeated. _ _ _ _

____“You need food, you’re tired. I woke you up. You need sleep and food and then you should call Jon.”_ _ _ _

____Jon choked on a hysterical laugh. “I don’t think a nap and a breakfast burrito is changing anything here.”_ _ _ _

____“ _Lovett_ ,” Andy looked seriously like he was the one that was being dumped. _ _ _ _

____Jon braced himself and looked up to make eye contact with Andy. It was the one part of Jon that he saw without question in Andy’s face. Those stupid freaking eyes. He tried his hardest to convey just how much what he was saying was true and simply said. “Go.”_ _ _ _

____Andy blinked but after a moment he nodded. He was halfway to the door when he stopped and gave Jon a tight hug. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Lovett.”_ _ _ _

____“Bye Andy,” he said, not allowing himself to dig into the hug. He was not in the place to do so and he knew if he gave in he would embarrass himself further._ _ _ _

____Andy left and Jon made it to the couch. He curled up on one side and just let time pass, not unlike the day before, but this time his phone did ring and it did buzz and he didn’t look at it once._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____It took him four days to dig himself out of being curled up on his bed or couch doing nothing and another week to get out of the actual house. It would have been more, had it not been for the phone call he got from his agent saying that he had a meeting scheduled with HBO for whatever reason. Nothing came from the meeting, other than a weird conversation about his role in the White House and his feelings towards it but he didn’t get a call back and frankly he didn’t want one. He wasn’t eager for another show about the political scene._ _ _ _

____He pushed himself to stay out, though, got an actual meal and went to walk around the Grove, which while a horrible tourist trap did have a pretty decent Apple Store where he splurged on a new MacBook Pro. He wasn’t probably in the financial state to do so but he was in the emotional state where he could care fucking less what logic dictated. It was shiny and new and the screen had never had Jonathan Favreau on it and somehow that made opening it to work on some script doctoring he’d been asked to do easier._ _ _ _

____The sad part, the part that hurt more than anything, was when his life began to feel normal again. Two months after he had stood his ground and said what needed to be said he was steps away from getting a job with Aaron fucking Sorkin, his house was too big but he’d had a few get togethers to make actual friends and they’d worked out._ _ _ _

____He would find himself forgetting for hours on end. He would be so caught up in doing things that had nothing to do with his cell phone or politics and he’d just be breathing. Then, with little warning, something would pop up. Pundit would bark at the TV and he’d catch that he’d switched to CNN for no good reason. Barack Obama would be in the center. His chest would ache._ _ _ _

____His phone would ring, he’d finally changed the damn ringer, and even that would hurt. It was never Favs, would never be Favs again. Sometimes it was Tommy but he was beginning to suspect that even though they lived together, he wasn’t getting Tommy in the divorce. He guessed business ties beat out staying in a guys guest room for months on end._ _ _ _

____Even the house had been bought for Favs and him. He thought about selling it but that felt like a betrayal he wasn’t ready for._ _ _ _

____So he moved forward every day for weeks and then months. He started to write for The Newsroom, which was an even weird chapter in his life than 1600 PENN. He’d spent so much time with Aaron Sorkin running through his head in the White House, every long walk from one place to another. Every time they had any sort of meetings with large groups. It was like the West Wing theme had been his soundtrack._ _ _ _

____It was a politically charged show but he wasn’t being used as a political puppet in any way. He was asked to write for it because they liked his work, Aaron liked his work and he was able to punch up scripts that needed it. He based his daily success on whether he could at least get Aaron to smile at a joke or storyline he proposed and more often than not he went home satisfied._ _ _ _

____It paid him, well enough that he could keep the house and his car and have money in his pocket for shit he wanted. He enjoyed the camaraderie. Enjoyed one of the guys on set setting him up with a guy. Yet it still hurt like the breakup was the day before, not ever increasing time behind him, and he couldn’t bring himself to go on a date without feeling like he was cheating._ _ _ _

____It fucking sucked._ _ _ _

____To his credit, Andy ignored the rules of breakups and would show up to his house every once in a while with some shitty beer and annoy him until he let him in, then prod him to talk. Even six months after the breakup he insisted that the two of them were “grade A+ morons” who “didn’t know their asses from their elbows.”_ _ _ _

____He didn’t know why he let him in his house just to get ribbed, but there was something comforting in that. Plus Pundit usually perked up - it was probably his imagination but he was pretty sure that even his dog was a little depressed._ _ _ _

____“What are you doing next Thursday?” Andy asked, beer in one hand and the other petting Pundit who was curled up on his chest. He’d come to visit him because apparently being depressed around Christmas was ‘fucking depressing’. He had to point out that he was Jewish and ANDY was the one who was not going home for HIS holiday._ _ _ _

____“Well, as you know,” Jon said, putting his feet up on his coffee table. “It’s the birth of your Lord and Savior which means I am doing the traditional worship of my people, which is Chinese food and a movie.”_ _ _ _

____Andy frowned at him. “That is the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve been dealing with two depressed idiots for MONTHS.”_ _ _ _

____“I’ll have you know it is a holy ritual dating back DECADES,” Jon said. “My parents did it, my grandparents did it… I don’t think my great-grandparents did it but I don’t think movies were really a thing then…”_ _ _ _

____“Come on,” Andy said. “It’s _Christmas_.” _ _ _ _

____Jon pointed to his face and made a circle. “This face? I’m still Jewish, Andy. Did you hit your head on set?”_ _ _ _

____“A group of us are doing kind of a _gathering_ at my friend’s house. You’re coming. Jewish or not.” _ _ _ _

____“Why?”_ _ _ _

____Andy shrugged. “Cause if not I’ll end up catching a cab here while drunk and dragging your dumb ass there.”_ _ _ _

____He would do it, Jon had zero doubts about that. “Okay. Whatever. Do I have to bring food? I don’t do food.”_ _ _ _

____“Naw, that’s settled,” Andy said. “White Elephant though, so bring a gift. Twenty bucks or less.”_ _ _ _

____“Twenty bucks? Really?” Jon said. “What am I supposed to do with that?”_ _ _ _

____Andy rolled his eyes. “We can go shopping tomorrow, then not choose each other’s gifts. Or do. I don’t care. I just don’t want to picture you here watching like… The American President or some shit. It’ll ruin my day.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh, well if it’ll ruin _your day_.” _ _ _ _

____He’d been planning on marathoning the Harry Potter Movies, not particularly because he loved them but because he had them and none of them felt Christmas-y to him. He had mostly hoped the day to feel like a vacation day but he guessed he could get over it for a day. It might actually be nice. It wasn’t like the city ever felt like it was Christmas._ _ _ _

____The next day he and Andy went to Target and spent almost an hour being idiots in the aisles, he’d smiled more than he thought he could and bought a stupid vase that was supposed to be art deco but looked more like someone was too lazy to mold the glass to fit the metal. It left him with 5 bucks, but he was going to splurge and possibly go and get some nice poppies to go in them._ _ _ _

____On Wednesday he got a text from Andy which said, ‘ _Pick me up at 2. Bring the mutt, there will be dogs to play with._ ’_ _ _ _

____He was playing D &D, which honestly kind of sucked, but it would give him the ultimate getaway. Andy could get nice and drunk and one of his friends could take him home. He was okay with being there for all of an hour or so. He wasn’t quite sure he was willing to go past that. _ _ _ _

____Andy was dressed like a freaking demented Santa, almost, when he picked him up the next day. He had a red suit on, why he had a red suit Jon had no idea. He had even less idea why he was _dressed up_. Jon was wearing jeans and an old Star Wars shirt he’d found in his closet. _ _ _ _

____“You didn’t tell me that we had to dress up,” Jon said as soon as Andy slid into the front seat._ _ _ _

____“What? I didn’t tell you we are going to a fancy party?”_ _ _ _

____Jon opened his mouth to berate him, but Andy just laughed him off._ _ _ _

____“Dude, I have a red suit. Do you know how often I get to wear this? Twice a year, tops. I can play a sexy devil for Halloween and act like I’ve got the Christmas spirit. That’s it. Let me live.”_ _ _ _

____Jon sagged a little with relief. “As long as I don’t look like an asshole.”_ _ _ _

____“Naw, these guys aren’t like that. I’ll get dragged for the suit, but I don’t care. So you know, you live and you learn.”_ _ _ _

____“Isn’t that a diaper commercial?”_ _ _ _

____They started driving, Andy giving instructions in-between talking about the different commercials he _almost_ got. One of which was for Luvs’ diapers, which he was thankful he didn’t get as he saw later and the dude got crap on him. Pretend or not, he was cool with not getting fake baby crap on clothing touching his body. _ _ _ _

____He’d done a little acting, here and there, and he guessed stand up was similar but Andy had always reminded him why he would never pursue it. It seemed like too much work, and unlike writing it wasn’t work he could do in the comfort of his pajamas if he wanted to._ _ _ _

____He took a turn into a neighborhood that seemed to be full of cars and decent sized houses and slowed down when Andy told him to. They found a spot and Andy smiled at him._ _ _ _

____“You ready for this?”_ _ _ _

____“I think Pundit is,” he said, indicating the dog who was practically jumping out the window to get out of the car. “You could’ve told me it was in the Valley.”_ _ _ _

____“Where’s the fun in telling you things, Lovett?”_ _ _ _

____The smile he received made something ping in the back of Jon’s mind. It was a familiar grin, one Favs would use on him when he was about to fuck with him. It never boded well in their relationship, so he couldn’t help but doubt that his brother had anything good planned._ _ _ _

____Andy jumped out of the car and let Pundit out, thankfully grabbing the leash before she could dash off into the distance. He grabbed his gift (well, gifts) from the back seat and was thankful they’d made it there with the bare minimum of puppy teeth marks._ _ _ _

____As soon as he walked into the house he really didn’t want to be there. People were gathered around the room in packs, packs he didn’t belong in. He was feeling tired, a little anxious and a lot out of place instantly. Andy was talking to some chick and he could see through the window that even his dog was having fun without him, the traitor._ _ _ _

____He walked into the kitchen and hoped that there would be at least a little alcohol to relax him. Yeah, he was driving but he could also enjoy a glass of wine and be fine. There were a few bottles of red open, and one bottle of white. He chose the white, because in his opinion it gave him less of a hangover. Favs used to tell him that he just didn’t appreciate the levels of a red. He said he wasn’t a snob._ _ _ _

____“Yo, Lovett,” Andy walked in. “Can I grab your keys? I left my gift in the front seat.”_ _ _ _

____Jon grabbed his keys and handed them to Andy and Andy turned to run out of the room before he realized that that couldn’t be true. He’d seen him walk in with the bag and when he put his down he’d seen the bag near his on the table. He walked out towards the door to see what the hell Andy could be doing to his freaking car to be met with… Favs and Tommy in the doorway._ _ _ _

____He wasn’t aware his chest could actually feel like it was going concave and going to burst at the same time but that was about how he felt. Favs caught his eyes and went white. He turned on his heel and walked back towards the kitchen, veering off towards the big glass doors that led to the backyard._ _ _ _

____Thoughts of leaving flitted by and then evaporated when he realized that Andy had TAKEN HIS DAMN KEYS. No doubt Andy had been planning this for a while, because he was a jackass. He looked around the backyard, hoping to find Andy somewhere and kick him in the fucking shins but the younger brother was smarter than he looked and nowhere to be seen._ _ _ _

____Everyone else was enjoying themselves. Everyone else seemed to be having a good time. Jon felt the sudden constriction of an anxiety attack starting and he was freaking the fuck out. A guy he half knew as a minor character on 1600 PENN walked up and patted him on the back and he almost screamed at him. He had to school his face to neutral and blankly nod and shake his head at random intervals for a minute before it became obvious the guy knew he wasn’t listening._ _ _ _

____He had to focus on his breathing._ _ _ _

____“Lovett.”_ _ _ _

____He jerked around and saw Tommy standing there. He looked about as comfortable as Jon felt, but with less of the twitchiness he knew he must be showing. “What the _hell_ are you doing here?” _ _ _ _

____“Andy invited us.”_ _ _ _

____“Of course, of fucking course,” he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He’d yet to meet an Uber driver who wasn’t okay with Pundit if it meant that they got a good tip and they must be making extra money on the holiday._ _ _ _

____Tommy had come up closer to him. “What are you doing?”_ _ _ _

____“Leaving, what does it look like I’m doing?” He hit send and a moment later it told him his driver was on their way._ _ _ _

____“You can’t leave, Lovett.”_ _ _ _

____Jon jerked his head up. “Why not?”_ _ _ _

____“I haven’t seen you in months,” Tommy said. “We haven’t even talked in like two.”_ _ _ _

____He rolled his eyes and looked around the yard for his dog. “I’m aware of who got who in the divorce, Vietor.”_ _ _ _

____“Wait, what?”_ _ _ _

____He found Pundit, naturally, licking at Favs’ stupid face. The dog was practically doing circus circles in pure glee and he was going to either have to leave her here or take a pissed off dog back and the truth was he wanted to do both for the most selfish reasons. He couldn’t stand the thought of walking up to Favs, but he didn’t want Favs to see her. She was _his_ dog, after all. Gift or not. _ _ _ _

____"Fuck," he muttered._ _ _ _

____Tommy though, was not focused on the fact that he was not in the mood to talk. "What do you mean who got who in the divorce?"_ _ _ _

____"I mean," he turned. "You work with him everyday. I texted you for a few months, but when I stopped initiating it you stopped responding. I’m not a genius, but I’m not an idiot either. Could you go get my damn dog so I can leave?"_ _ _ _

____"Lovett, I'm not taking sides."_ _ _ _

____Jon felt like he might actually be losing his mind. "Who'd you show up with and who'd you not tell that you were in town?"_ _ _ _

____Tommy gaped at him for a second and he gave a sad smile._ _ _ _

____"Yeah, Vietor. It's okay. I get it. I concede. I just want my freaking dog, and I want to go home. This isn't even my damn holiday, Andy took my keys and I doubt I'll be able to get Chinese food at this rate so just let me go." His phone bleeped at him and he saw that his car would be there in ten minutes. He looked up at Tommy. "Please?"_ _ _ _

____Tommy, who still looked taken aback and possibly a little guilty, gave a tight nod and walked back towards Favs and Pundit. Jon watched like he might watch a car crash. He should look away, but he couldn't. Tommy leaned down and said something to Favs, whose face went from a small smile to a pained look to a frown. He looked up and caught Jon's eyes. Jon just kept looking. Tommy picked Pundit up and walked back over to Jon._ _ _ _

____"Jon, I never meant..."_ _ _ _

____Jon took Pundit out of his hands. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Tell Hanna I said hi."_ _ _ _

____He looked around the backyard and found what he was looking for, a small brown wooden gated door. He walked over and opened it one handed. Thankful for the fact that he had nothing of any real consequence in his car, he went to the front yard and waited patiently until a green Camry came up alongside and a short girl rolled down the window._ _ _ _

____"Your chariot awaits," she smiled._ _ _ _

____He double checked the plates and then got into the back seat. "I hope you don't mind my dog."_ _ _ _

____"I hope you don't mind me talking to them like they are a human."_ _ _ _

____It cost him nearly sixty bucks to get home, and he gave the girl a 20 dollar tip as she had given him space and talked solely to Pundit, who jumped into the front seat and laid her head on the center console with a satisfied wagging of her tail._ _ _ _

____When he got home he was thankful for the stupid hollowed rock his mom got him for a moving in gift. He opened the door and let himself in, Pundit happily wagging her tail the whole time. He wondered if she thought that Favs was back for good because she got to see him. He felt weirdly guilty for the heart break his dog would feel in a few days. His chest was aching, it was just past 3:30 in the afternoon and he had no car._ _ _ _

____His phone had started to go off when he was about halfway home and he had turned it off before they got off the highway. He wasn't in the mood to hear Andy out, or Tommy. It was just not in him. He looked through his menus for local restaurants and hoped that at least one would deliver when it was so crazy, and if he ordered early enough he had a better chance._ _ _ _

____He turned his phone on and ignored the rapid-fire texts and emails that came at him, instead dialing number after number. It took him four tries to finally get to a place that wasn’t already booked to the point of no delivery, or closed. He ordered more food than he knew what to do with, not because he was that hungry but he figured that the poor kid forced to drive would be annoyed by delivering one order of beef and broccoli._ _ _ _

____So he would have food in his fridge, stranger things had happened._ _ _ _

____Even at just past four in the morning, r it was still a two-hour wait. He sighed, went into his bedroom and stripped off his jeans and put on his pajama pants. He doubted he would even make it through half of the Harry Potter movies but tomorrow was another day and all that. When he flopped onto the couch Pundit came up and sat beside him, her head on his lap and her feet under his leg._ _ _ _

____He rubbed at her ears and watched as Harry was told he was a wizard. The small Daniel Radcliffe looked smaller every time he watched the movies. He remembered the movies coming out when he was in his freshman year of college. One of the girls in his dorm dragged a group out to go see it when it hit the dollar theater on campus and while he had been initially annoyed at a kids movie he ended up enjoying it. It felt like a million years ago._ _ _ _

____It was only an hour later when the doorbell rang and he was startled from his movie stupor. Pundit jolted from her sleeping position and was at the door before Jon could stand up. The delivery guy did not know what was coming to him. He walked down the hallway and was almost to the door when knocking started. A flash of something hit him. He couldn’t help but remember that being something that had been a habit of …_ _ _ _

____He opened the door._ _ _ _

____Favs. It had been a habit of Jon Favreau. Who was at his door holding a bag in his hands and looking like a bit manic. On impulse Jon went to slam the door but Favs moved quicker than he did and put his hand and foot out at the same time._ _ _ _

____“Let me slam the damn door on you, Favreau,” he muttered._ _ _ _

____“ _No_ ,” Favs responded. “We need to talk.” _ _ _ _

____“I think we did talk. Which is when we broke up. Six months ago.”_ _ _ _

____Favs huffed. “Listen, Lovett.”_ _ _ _

____“Why should I?”_ _ _ _

____Pundit was thoroughly confused, jumping between Jon and Favs and yipping like they were playing some fun game that she wasn’t familiar with. Jon realized she might get caught in the crossfire if he let his anger get the best of him. Instead he let go of the door quickly, enjoying a moment of schadenfreude when Favs jolted forward and almost fell._ _ _ _

____“Thank you?” Favs righted himself._ _ _ _

____“I’m only doing it for the dog,” Jon said. “If I pushed too hard she might get caught in the door.”_ _ _ _

____Favs gave him a look as he took another step into the house. Jon didn’t want him to be there. To be more accurately, he wanted him there but he didn’t want the now Favs to be there. He wanted to be sharing Christmas with his _boyfriend_ Favs. Not the guy who he hadn’t seen or talked to in so long he was finding himself looking him over just to see the differences. _ _ _ _

____“What do you want?” he asked, finally, just about giving up on the whole thing._ _ _ _

____Favs put the bag down on a rarely-used side table in what was considered his foyer. “I told you, we need to talk.”_ _ _ _

____Pundit jumped up on Favs and Favs knelt down to pick her up. “Hey. Still excited? It’s only been a few hours.”_ _ _ _

____“Kids always get excited when their absentee parent show up,” he muttered._ _ _ _

____“She might smell Leo,” he said. “I got off a plane this morning.”_ _ _ _

____He bit at his lower lip. “How’s Leo?”_ _ _ _

____“Okay,” he said. “He misses Pundit.”_ _ _ _

____“Doubtful,” Jon said. He braced himself. “Look. If we have to talk, let’s talk. Is this going to be long?”_ _ _ _

____Favs gave a look that seemed to be considering him. “I don’t know. It depends.”_ _ _ _

____“I need some wine. I might have beer. Do you want to just do this in the kitchen?”_ _ _ _

____Favs shrugged._ _ _ _

____It occurred to him that in the time that he’d lived in this house, the house he’d bought for he and Favs, they’d spent maybe four or five days in it together. He wondered if Favs felt uncomfortable in it, or if he felt like it was partially his. He walked to the kitchen and offered him the table. He had a bottle of Riesling in the fridge, one he’d bought with the intention of drinking on New Year’s Eve, but figured he still had time to replenish the stock. There was a row of beer on the inside of his fridge from visits from Andy. He grabbed the first one and handed it to Favs._ _ _ _

____“Sam Adams?” Favs looked at the beer. “Has Andy been here?”_ _ _ _

____Jon shrugged. “Yeah. He comes around every once in a while.”_ _ _ _

____“Really?”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t think he gets the rules of breakups,” Jon said, pouring himself a glass and sitting down across from Favs._ _ _ _

____Favs looked at him and tilted his head. “Well, it explains a few things. He seemed to know too much about the break up and the aftermath. I figured he just filled in the blanksl”_ _ _ _

____“Also explains his stupid plan,” Jon exhaled. “Are your parents really on a cruise?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah,” Favs said, looking at the beer bottle he rolled back and forth in his hands. “They claim to have won it but I get the feeling this was an inside job.”_ _ _ _

____Jon laughed. “You _think_?” _ _ _ _

____Favs lips curled in a rueful smile. “I was really convinced. I should’ve seen it coming. They’ve only talked about you almost every phone call and email.”_ _ _ _

____“My parents have done the opposite. I think if we didn’t share the name they would have wiped ‘Jon’ out of their vocabulary. Except, of course, when my mom berated me at Thanksgiving for ‘starving myself’.”_ _ _ _

____“You’ve lost weight,” Favs said, his voice less accusatory than his mother but not by much._ _ _ _

____Jon sighed. “It’s called working out and eating less. Some might call it a ‘diet’. I had time to fill.”_ _ _ _

____“Not much, I mean, you’re writing for Aaron Sorkin now,” Favs said and his eyes darted up to meet Jon’s._ _ _ _

____“Don’t even,” Jon said. “It’s the weirdest thing I’ve done in my life, and I worked in the White House. Sometimes he’ll forget and almost rewrite a line from West Wing or Sports Night, and we have to remind him of his own work.”_ _ _ _

____Favs laughed, a genuine and not bitter laugh and the wine almost seized in his throat. He was sure that if he was a different person he would be in a better place at six months, but it turned out that all it took was laughter for him to want to crawl back under the covers and dwell._ _ _ _

____“I can’t imagine you quoting Sports Night,” Favs said._ _ _ _

____He forgot that that was one of the shows he’d binged after the break up. He’d been a little desperate, hoping for something to distract him. He’d heard enough about it over the years, so he put it on. He didn’t understand two thirds of the references but he still watched it._ _ _ _

____“‘ _I’m a Jew and I must be stopped._ ’”_ _ _ _

____Favs eyes went wide. “No shit, Lovett!”_ _ _ _

____“I watched it… uh. After,” Jon looked away as something hit him. “You can have those DVDs back, by the way. I have a box I was going to send but I just never did. Not much in it, but you know. Some things you left when you visited.”_ _ _ _

____“Lovett,” Favs said, sagging back in his seat. “I don’t want them back.”_ _ _ _

____Jon straightened in his seat. “Fine, I’ll give them away. I’m sure some kid deserves a super old TV show to binge on the DVD player they don’t have.”_ _ _ _

____“Gd damn it,” Favs said, loud enough that it surprised Jon and even more so Pundit, who jumped down from Favs lap and skittered over to Jon. “Sorry. I just. I don’t want it back, I want _you_ back.” _ _ _ _

____“Well, _Tito_ ,” Jon mused, patting at Pundit to calm her down. “We don’t all get one more chance.” _ _ _ _

____“Stop making this into a joke,” Favs said. “I miss you.”_ _ _ _

____Jon swallowed. “I miss you, too. But nothing has changed. What do you expect, Jon? You come back, you tell me you miss me and we do what? Go back to where we were. Living off of Skype and text messages. You somehow found a job that makes you _less available_ than the freaking Head Speech writer for the President. I stay here and miserable half the time? Cause I’ll be honest with you, it sucks. It SUCKS, okay? And I’m not up for it again.” _ _ _ _

____“Tommy is taking a fellowship in Chicago.”_ _ _ _

____Jon shook his head. “What does that have to do with anything?”_ _ _ _

____“He’ll be gone from January to March. After that? I’m moving here. To Los Angeles.”_ _ _ _

____The room seemed to tilt for a second, the way it would if he was hungover, but at least it righted itself far quicker. He put both of his hands on the table and pushed them flat, grounding himself. He’d heard this all before._ _ _ _

____“You’re moving to LA? Really?”_ _ _ _

____Favs nodded. “I started getting things ready. Fixing my house up to sell.”_ _ _ _

____“What about Fenway Strategies?”_ _ _ _

____“We’re moving it to the west coast.”_ _ _ _

____Jon blinked and licked his lips. “You can’t just do that.”_ _ _ _

____“Why the hell not? It’s our business. We have a few clients who are bicoastal, so they don’t care where we are stationed, and we can build more if we want to. Tommy might move to San Francisco, but I’m coming here.”_ _ _ _

____Jon looked down and stared at his fingers. He was a little anxious that he’d fallen asleep on the couch and was having some very very real and very very dangerous dream. “When did you start planning this?”_ _ _ _

____“Honestly?”_ _ _ _

____His head jerked up. “No, Jon. I always hope to be lied to. It’s my favorite thing.”_ _ _ _

____Favs brushed a hand up along the back of his head. His hair was getting longer, which was weird but nice. “A month after we broke up. I was sitting in a meeting and I realized that I didn’t remember the last time I’d willingly left the office. I would go home to crash and shower but I was living just to work, not because the job made me happy._ _ _ _

____“I was going by rote and people noticed. So, I started to make a list of all the reasons I was staying back east and the reasons I would move here and… well. One clearly had more pros.”_ _ _ _

____Jon licked his lips. “West won out?”_ _ _ _

____“East,” Favs said. “It was my comfort zone. Near my parents. I have friends, a house. Leo. The business started there. Moving would be a big jump into the unknown.”_ _ _ _

____“Then why the fuck are you moving here?”_ _ _ _

____Favs laughed awkwardly. “You. You are here. Pundit is here. I can find work if I need it. I can make new friends. Hell, I can buy a new house here. But I can’t find a new you.”_ _ _ _

____“Well that’s stupid,” Jon blurted out. “Of course you can find a new me. You’re on the east coast. There are me’s all over there. Or there are girls. Or tall Nordic men named Erik or Sven.”_ _ _ _

____“Sven?”_ _ _ _

____It had been a rather stupid recurring nightmare, but that was neither here nor there. He waved his hand to wipe it away._ _ _ _

____“You could find someone else, Favs.”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t _want_ to find someone else, _Lovett,_ ” Favs said. “I want you. I want stupid cultural references I don’t get, I want your mom’s brisket. I want this house that you bought for us. I want our dogs to be in the backyard. I want to fight over dumb things. I want to actually live in the same zip code as you for a long time.” _ _ _ _

____Jon felt shaky, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Oh I see, you just want me for my mom’s brisket. It’s diet coke and cocktail sauce. Big family secret.”_ _ _ _

____“Shut up, Lovett,” Favs said, but he seemed to almost be smiling. “Don’t you get it? It’s _you_ that’s the common denominator.” _ _ _ _

____There was a math joke to be made, and he wasn’t one to deny that opportunity often but he let it pass. He’d spent six months living his life with the concrete knowledge that he wasn’t going to be with Jon Favreau. That he wasn’t even going to be in the same city as him unless it was on a fluke._ _ _ _

____He’d gotten to a point where it only felt like a dull ache, not a stabbing pain in his chest._ _ _ _

____The idea that it might not be true was not easily to assimilate. He grabbed his glass of wine and drank a long gulp, allowing himself time to think and maybe the slight bubbling feeling of Riesling._ _ _ _

____“You’re kind of killing me here,” Favs said, breathing in and out deeply. “I bared my heart.”_ _ _ _

____“You broke mine,” Jon said and he hadn’t expected to say it out loud but it felt good once he did. Favs flinched but Jon continued. “I really thought I was done. I was moving forward, or trying to.”_ _ _ _

____Favs waited a beat. “… and now?”_ _ _ _

____“Now you are MOVING here, Favreau,” he said. “Who does that AFTER they say they don’t know if they can do it?”_ _ _ _

____“An idiot who said things when he was scared and not thinking.”_ _ _ _

____He exhaled a laughed. “Well fuck.”_ _ _ _

____“Is that a good fuck or a bad fuck?”_ _ _ _

____He raised a lascivious eyebrow. “You need to ask?”_ _ _ _

____“Not really with you,” Favs lifted himself slightly and leaned over the table to press a kiss to a startled Jon. Favs lips felt so familiar on his it was like it hadn’t been lord knows how long since they kissed. Was it eight months? Seven? He couldn’t remember. But this was right. This was his._ _ _ _

____Pundit whined in his arms and his first urge was to ignore it, because… _Favs_ but then Favs pulled back landlocked down at the dog who was wiggling in Jon’s lap and jumping up to lick Favs chin. _ _ _ _

____“Sorry Pundit, this is for the adults,” Favs smiled._ _ _ _

____Jon licked at his own lips. “Let’s take it to the bedroom. Locks are an amazing thing.”_ _ _ _

____“I like your thinking, Lovett.” They both stood. There was something like first time anxiety in the air, it made Jon feel like he was 16 years old. He shifted his feet._ _ _ _

____“Well I’m quite smart, I worked for the president you know,” he teased._ _ _ _

____Favs laughed. “I hear his former Speech Director was kind of an idiot at the worst possible moments.”_ _ _ _

____Jon shrugged. “But he was so beautiful it didn’t matter…”_ _ _ _

____“You are never letting that article go, are you?”_ _ _ _

____He shook his head. That article in People was his favorite thing, had been passed around the office like a porn mag in middle school._ _ _ _

____There was a pause and Jon had the chance to push up on his toes and kiss Favs again. It was something he hoped he couldn’t get bored with. The idea of Favs being here twenty four seven was almost too much for him to comprehend which was patently ridiculous as he’d spent so much time imagining it. Favs dug his hand into the curls at the base of his neck and yes, the bedroom seemed like a very good idea._ _ _ _

____They made it almost to the bedroom when the doorbell rang._ _ _ _

____“Fuck,” Jon moaned, looking at the clock in his hallway. “Chinese food.”_ _ _ _

____Favs kissed him again. “We will have to eat eventually, and unless the world has completely changed, your fridge will give us nothing… “_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, damned fridge, all it supplies me with is soda and beer, what is that?”_ _ _ _

____The doorbell rang again. Pundit was losing her mind, script chin at the door. He walked to the door with the pure hope the guy wouldn’t notice that his dick was hard as a diamond against his lower belly, but really not giving a fuck._ _ _ _

____Thankfully, the guy looked he wouldn’t have cared if he had been naked, so he signed the slip, gave a generous tip and used the large brown bag to hide himself._ _ _ _

____“We’re you having a party I didn’t know about?” Favs asked looking at the sheer amount of food._ _ _ _

____Jon couldn’t bring himself to say he didn’t want to look lonely so he snarked. “Maybe I had a date.”_ _ _ _

____Something flitted across Favs face. Jon would’ve laugh were it not for his intense sadness at the thought of Favs having a date._ _ _ _

____“You jerk, like I would,” he said, a touch of fondness in his voice. “Let me put this away and I will have my first date since _our_ last one.” _ _ _ _

____The smile that spread across Favs’ face was enough to make him basically shove the food in to the fridge and come directly back to the hallway where Favs was not at. He ventured a guess and found that he was correct in assuming that Favs had made his way to the bedroom._ _ _ _

____“Eager much?”_ _ _ _

____Favs, shirtless and mid snap of his pants, looked up with a flush. “It’s been more than seven months and it’s _you_ , so yes.” _ _ _ _

____He didn’t need a second invitation, as he knew exactly what he meant. It was ridiculous how nervous he felt, when it was freaking _Favs_ , who even before they’d been dating had seen him in all manners of undress and even illness. But he found he was shaking by the time he was down to his tented boxers. _ _ _ _

____“Hey,” Favs said, low and intense, suddenly only inches away. “You okay?”_ _ _ _

____“Forgot how…” he flailed at Favs. “ _You_ you are.” _ _ _ _

____Favs laughed. “You write for a living?”_ _ _ _

____“Just shut up,” he paused, and took a deep breath. “I’m nervous.”_ _ _ _

____Favs slipped a hand onto Jon’s hips. “Nervous? I’ll promise to be gentle.”_ _ _ _

____“You better not be,” he said without thinking._ _ _ _

____Favs laughed loudly, grabbing at his chest and that calmed Jon enough to move into the touch. He moved to sit on the side of the bed and Favs came with him, falling down and pushing him back. He stared up at Jon with a smile. “You are a nerd, Favreau.”_ _ _ _

____“And I’m yours,” Favs said, so sappily and sweetly Jon could gag. Instead he leaned up and met Favs for a kiss. After that, the nerves were completely gone. He put his hands on the plane of Favs stomach and reached up to pull him in by the shoulders._ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____Despite the fact that Favs would usually protest heartily, they lay in bed with Chinese food boxes and forks. He wondered if he’d ordered the Buddha’s Delight with Favs secretly in mind, as when he mentioned he had it Favs had looked like he was offering him manna from heaven. It should be weird being cross legged on the bed with Favs, but it mostly felt normal. There was an underlying feeling of _something_ but neither talked much about it. _ _ _ _

____Instead they talked about Fenway Strategies and Jon working with Aaron Sorkin. They exchanged war stories of bad clients or storylines people genuinely suggested like they were possible or logical. They talked about the coming election, speculating at which Republican would throw their hat in. It was what would have passed for normal in the short time they spent together pre break up._ _ _ _

____There was a lull in conversation, probably from Jon’s mind wandering too far down the break up rabbit hole. He looked up from his container to find Favs looking down at his hands, container closed and on the side table (where did he find a coaster?)._ _ _ _

____“We still have a lot to talk about, Lovett.”_ _ _ _

____Jon put a hand to his chest. “Really? I thought sex fixed everything.”_ _ _ _

____“I can’t move for at least two and a half months, but I **will** move in March,” he said, ignoring any attempt at levity. “I’ll try and fly out in February.” _ _ _ _

____“I can fly out to you, Jon,” Jon said, and closed his container to put on the side table nearest to him, sans any coaster. He moved so he was closer to Favs and tried his hardest not to sound like Dr. Phil. “Look, I’m not saying distance wasn’t the one of the bigger factors here, Favreau, just… communication was barely there towards the end. We were long distance with no end in sight. I slipped up and so did you. I wasn’t expecting chocolate and flowers but answering my call on a bad day would have been a huge step forward.”_ _ _ _

____In what seemed like a moment Favs went from flinching to beaming. “Hold on.”_ _ _ _

____He was off the bed before Jon could react, so he called towards his retreating back. “This is not good communicating, Jon!”_ _ _ _

____Favs returned with the bag he’d walked in with earlier. “I promise to communicate more, I promise to return all of your calls. Just. I got you something. At the White Elephant.”_ _ _ _

____Jon was confused. “The White Elephant? We’re talking moving in, getting back together and THAT’S what you’re going with?”_ _ _ _

____“I just, I thought maybe it would be a good…you know. Gift. I traded a used copy of Grand Theft Auto.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh, well, Grand Theft Auto,” Jon said but his teasing was obvious enough that Favs ears reddened. “What am I even thinking about if you traded that?”_ _ _ _

____The bag was red and medium sized, something he had seen when he’d gotten there, but as his hand reached inside he couldn’t help but start to laugh. He felt the flowers first, the brush of it familiar. Next came the cool glass against his finger tips. He pulled at it but knew before it came up what it was. He started to laugh._ _ _ _

____Favs looked a little put out. He tilted his head. “What?”_ _ _ _

____Jon tried to answer, he genuinely did but his laugh had turned to the kind where he had a hand to his stomach. He pointed at the vase in his hand, to flat pieces of glass and a metal shape of a vase inside and then he pointed at himself but this just caused Favs to cock his head to the the left not unlike Pundit when a motorcycle drove by._ _ _ _

____He wheezed and tried to bring himself under control. “Fuck, I love you.”_ _ _ _

____Favs face broke out into a huge smile. “I love you, too?”_ _ _ _

____“Did… did your brother see this?”_ _ _ _

____Favs paused and looked at the gift in Jon’s hand, face going from amused to confused to maybe a little annoyed in rapid succession. “That little fucker… You … It was too perfect…”_ _ _ _

____Jon giggled again. “It’s a great gift, Favs.”_ _ _ _

____“That you picked out,” Favs said, obviously put out._ _ _ _

____“Can’t get much better than that,” he offered, and leaned up to give Favs a kiss._ _ _ _

____“I was thinking of it as a home-warming gift.”_ _ _ _

____Jon tilted his head. “I’ve been here almost a year, Favs and you got me a really cool clock, it’s in the living room.”_ _ _ _

____“That was a _house_ warming gift,” Favs said, and kissed him. “I want this to be a _home_ warming gift. For _us_.” _ _ _ _

____Jon could think of a thousand reasons that this was a bad idea, could tick off probably twenty, quite easily just seated on his bed right then. But then there was Favs, who looked so freaking sincere with his stupid big eyes and his mouth just open enough for him to see the gap that was between his teeth._ _ _ _

____“We have to talk about things,” Jon said, because it needed to be said. “So so so many things, Jonathan.”_ _ _ _

____Favs nodded. “I know. We have months between this and actually moving in… or I could rent a place, for a while… if that makes you more comfortable.”_ _ _ _

____“If you honestly think we are living in the same damn zip code and you aren’t going to be in the house I bought for us, you have been smoking something and not sharing.”_ _ _ _

____“Our house,” Favs smiled. “Our vase.”_ _ _ _

____Jon chuckled. “That I bought for myself and you chose over Grand Theft Auto.”_ _ _ _

____Favs got on the bed again, and Jon put the vase back, pitying the poppies that were half smashed against the bag. He slipped the bag off the bed though. He had bigger things to concern himself with. Like a grinning Favs who was only in his boxer briefs. He laid his head back against the pillow, fingers laced behind his head._ _ _ _

____“More important than Grand Theft Auto,” he repeated._ _ _ _

____“Shut up, Lovett,” Favs grinned. “I’m going to show you how important you are to me.”_ _ _ _

____Despite what many thought, he knew when to keep his mouth shut._ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____When the moving van left their house on March 16th, there were bright red and white roses in the vase that now centered the table he’d never had any idea what to do with._ _ _ _


End file.
